Hexes (Redux)
by celinenaville
Summary: "Sam curled into himself, suppressing a surprised sob at the sudden twist in his gut. The cat startled and jumped off of him. He was alone and scared and oddly disoriented. There was some infantile part of his mind that only knew that he wanted his brother. That his brother was the one to offer him comfort, to protect him." Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean. John Winchester. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1

**So I've never done this before, but this is a rewrite of an earlier story called _Hexes_. It's straight hurt/comfort Sammy whump, and features Ellis, from _Marking the Soul._ Although this takes place AFTER that fic, once I wrote _Marking the Soul_ I felt like I did Ellie a disservice in the original _Hexes._ In no way is Marking the Soul required to understand this fic, but if you are curious about Ellis and Dean's backstory, I recommend looking it over. I'm leaving up _Hexes_ in it's original form because I hate it when writers take down a story I was fond of. So here we go...on to the reboot. Thanks for reading and as always I love reviews.**

"I'm not sure, Sam." Dean ducked under an exposed beam and swung his flashlight around in a wide arc. "This isn't the usual witchy M.O. You know? They don't crawl around in creepy basements. Half the time, they live in suburban soccer mom environments. "

"I'm telling you Dean, she's here." Sam replied firmly. "I can feel it."

Sam stepped over the rubble in the old building and kept his gun drawn. They stepped into the hallway of the abandoned hospital and Sam had the brief thought that he hoped there was no asbestos in the crumbling plaster, then thought to himself, _of course there is,_ followed by: _our life is fucked anyway. Who cares?_

He heard chanting from one of the rooms to his right and motioned to his brother. Dean nodded and pulled ahead. They swung into the doorway and there she was, someone not too old, but haggard by all the black magic she had been using. She stopped her incantation to look at Dean and then blurted out the rest. Dean pulled the trigger, but she waved a hand and the shot swung wide like someone had kicked his hand.

Sam drew in behind him as the scrying bowl before her began to smoke, the spell's energy building. She hissed and gestured the power toward him with her hand just as Sam pulled the trigger. He hit her exactly as whatever spell hit him.

Dean bolted ahead as she fell with the gunshot and kicked over the contents of her altar. The building spell fizzled out.

He looked up. "Sam, you okay?"

Sam's young face looked a little dazed. He'd put a bullet through her and even though she was not truly human anymore, it was the first time he'd done so. Killing had become common place to Dean, but since he'd been in Stanford it wasn't natural at all to Sam.

"Yeah. Yeah." Sam snapped to himself and began to move. "She hit me with something, stunned me a little is all."

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at him appraisingly. "You okay? What did she hit you with?"

"I don't know." Sam responded. "I...I feel okay."

A moment later, he wasn't. A bolt of pain shot through him and he crumbled with it.

"Sammy!" Dean shoved his gun the waistband of his jeans and ran to his brother to catch him before he hit the cement. "What's wrong? Sam?"

* * *

Ellis Parnecki shoved the last pan into the dishwasher and kicked it closed. She glared at it like it had done something to offend her. In fact, her efforts of trying to cram all the pots and pans and silverware into it _had_ offended her. She turned it on and the phone rang. "Oh come on!"

She belatedly realized she'd forgotten to put in any dish detergent and swore as the phone rang again. Ellis hit the off button and grabbed the wireless house phone. "Hello?"

"Ellis?" The voice at the other end was a bit breathless.

"Yeah." She said, her mind racing to put together where she knew the voice.

"Ellis, it's Dean Winchester."

"Dean!" She exclaimed, then paused, as she analyzed the anxiety in his tone. "What's wrong? Is John..." her heart began to hammer. She hadn't heard from Dean in about a year. If he was calling her at this time of night...

"It's not Dad." There was a pause. "Ellis, it's Sammy. He's..."he broke off again. "Hurt. He got whammied by a witch and..." she could tell he was having a hard time verbalizing what was going on. Dean had never been a man of many words, like his father. "We're about an hour out from your place...can I come there?"

"Of course you can, Dean. I-"

"Thanks." He hung up.

Ellis clicked the end button and missed the days of being able to vent her frustrations by slamming down the receiver on rotary phones.

* * *

Ellis heard the loud low growl of the engine of Dean's car before she saw it pull into the drive. She nudged one of her cats away from the front door and opened it.

Dean stepped out from the driver's side and strode over to the passenger's door. It had been a long time since she'd seen him. A year maybe. He had John's old leather jacket on. It was oversized for him. It made her miss his father with a sudden pang.

The cat tried to dart out the door and Ellis blocked it with her foot and picked up the protesting orange tabby. She deposited it in the bathroom and slammed the door, which didn't close completely because of the crappy jammed doorhandle. She ignored it, hoping she had telegraphed her displeasure. By the time she turned back, Dean was halfway up the porch, buried under the burden of his brother.

So this was Sam. This was the force that had torn the Winchester family apart when he'd opted for Stanford instead of the life his father had planned for him. He had his arm slung over Dean's shoulders, his blue sneakered feet shuffling along the ground, too weak to hold up his head. It leaned against Dean's limply, his face obscured by a fringe of bangs that fell over his eyes.

Dean paused and looked up at her, his soft eyes full of worry. "Hi Ellis."

Her heart skipped a beat just as it had the first time she'd ever seen him in tow with his father-all charisma and charm. She approached him, reaching out a hand to Sam. "What happened?"

Dean groaned and shifted the weight. "He's really hurt."

"Bring him in."

Dean staggered with Sam to the guest bedroom off the living room and let him flop down on the mattress, holding his own lower back with a grimace. "Goddamn, he's heavy."

Sam curled onto his side with a moan.

Ellis knelt next to him and looked at his face. A flash of that same face played through her head, his eyes closed, cradled by his crying brother...she pushed it aside.

Sam's cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. Ellis looked to Dean. "Dean where is John? Why isn't he helping you?"

Dean hesitated. "Dad's gone."

She felt her stomach drop. "Gone where?"

"He's just gone...I..." he paused. "Can we talk about this later?"

She nodded. "Okay, I have to know exactly what happened."

She ventured to press her hand to Sam's high forehead. "He's running a fever."

"We were tracking a witch...Sam interrupted her spell and she turned the power on him I think. He was just fine one second and the next he's buckled to the floor, yelling."

Dean ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair and she could see the tell tale tremble as he moved.

She ventured to touch his knee from her spot on the floor. "It's okay."

Dean swallowed and nodded. "He's...I don't know what to do...can you help him?"

"It would sure be nice if I knew what spell she was using."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

"What are his symptoms?" She stayed kneeling and pressed her fingers to Sam's pulse point on his wrist.

Dean shook his head, looking down at them. "Pain? Stomach pain. He's really uncomfortable..." Dean himself looked like he was in a great amount of discomfort as he described it. Fever, I guess. He's ...he can hardly talk. He seems pretty disoriented...I don't know what to do, Ellis!"

"I know, honey. Let me look at him."

Sam looked almost like a child despite the fact that he was so tall, his long limbs were almost hanging over the edge of the bed. His boyish features pulled into a grimace and his breathing hitched as Ellie layed her hands on him. She cupped him behind the neck, her palm in contact with his too warm skin at the base of his skull under his thick hair, and her other gently on his forehead.

Sam whimpered. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of him. Sam showed up in her mind's eye as a blip of pain, wrapped around and around itself. She could almost feel the taint of the Magic in him. The hex trying to dim his light. She tried to discern what would break the spell, what could soothe the young man. Images started to swirl and Ellis gritted her teeth, her mind desperately thinking _no, no, no. Not now. Not a vision._

But it came. The same images she'd seen all those years ago when she'd first touched Dean. _Dean clutching Sam's lifeless body, the boyish features slack and still. The Impala outside a twisted wreck. And things she hadn't seen before... Sam broken and lonely alone in a motel room. Sam with a dark haired woman, tangled in passion..._

Ellis broke away and almost fell on her ass.

Dean reached down to grab her. "Easy!" He said. "You okay?"

She nodded." Yeah... the spell." She paused trying to sort through the tangle of information. "It feels Celtic in origin. I have some books I can consult to try and puzzle out what we need. Stay here with him."

She stood up, her 40 odd years making the task a little stiffer than she wanted it to be.

"Dean?"

"Yep. Here, Sam."

Sam opened his eyes and tried to register where he was. The last thing he recalled had been an abandoned basement. He was drained and confused and in so much throbbingly dull pain he couldn't think straight.

"Where...are...we?"

"We're at a friends house. We're safe, okay."

"Kay..." Sam drew his knees closer to his chest, fighting the urge to go completely fetal. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave. Stay. Kay?"

His brother's lip turned up into a humorless smile. "Yeah buddy. Staying."

 **tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**So much Sam torture. I am a sadist. Poor Sam.**

Ellis rifled through her books in the upstairs room that she used as her library. _God dammit. Something had to be in here to help. It HAD to._

She picked up her cell as she flipped through the vast and useless tomes of lore in her collection and dialed a number she knew by heart.

John Winchester's phone. _Come on,_ she thought. _Pick up._

His voicemail came on. His gruff voice almost made her tear up. "This is John. If you need help, please call my boy Dean..."

She waited until the tone and then spoke clearly. "John. It's Ellie. Where are you? One of your boys is hurt. Dean is scared out of his wits. I'm worried about you. Call me back, honey. Please?"

She hung up, closing her eyes against a wash of sorrow. _Where the hell was he? Why was he leaving his boys like this? Was he even alive?_ Some part of her said "yes" even as another part thought "not for much longer now."

Her heart gave a thump.

The cat, obviously having escaped from his prison in the bathroom, jumped onto Ellis' shoulder then scrambled onto the bookshelf. _Fucking cat._

It knocked over a book and Ellis had to scramble out of the way to avoid it bashing her in the head. "Taco! Come on!"

The book fell open to a page in Gaelic and Ellis paused.

* * *

Dean was sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, his head ducked down between his hands when she came back down. She wanted to hold him so badly. He looked so stressed. He looked up at her approach, all long lashes and green eyes just like she remembered him.

A memory of being entangled with him on the couch inched through her concern and almost made her flush. That day had replayed through her fantasies enough times, god only knows. His lips everywhere, her hands tangled in his hair, Dean's warm body pressed against hers...she held out her book.

No time for that now. "I think I found something to help. I might need you to go on a supply run for the ingredients."

Sam whimpered to her left and they both turned toward him. The youngest Winchester possessed a different beauty than his brother but he was handsome none the less. All soft boyish features, sloping nose, thick brown hair. His eyes fluttered open for a moment and he put his hand to his stomach. "Dean," he asked?

"Yeah. Here, Sammy. We're gonna take care of you, alright?"

"This hurts so bad..."

Ellis touched his shoulder. "I'm going to help you. Just hang on. God Dean, where is John in all of this?"

"He's..." Dean dropped his gaze. "He took off. I don't know where."

"What does that mean?"

"It means just what I said, Ellis!" He snapped.

"Is he hurt?"

"I don't fucking know!" Dean stood up and paced a few feet, tense like a caged tiger.

She paused, could feel Sam shift under her palm. "How long has he been gone?"

Dean looked at her and ran and hand over his face. " _Months!_ Okay? Months."

"St..stop arguing," Sam said.

She patted him. "Okay, sweetheart."

Dean's jaw tensed. "What do you want, huh? Tell me what I need to get?"

Sam cried out, rolling onto his stomach and fisting his hands into the bed linens. His breathing hitched. "It's getting worse. Oh god, what's wrong with me?" He whimpered into the pillow.

Dean winced. "Can't we give him anything for the pain?!"

Ellis was down next to Sam in a flash. She put her hand on his trembling back. "I don't know what I have. I have maybe some tea?"

God, how many times was she going to have to piece together injured Winchesters who showed up at her doorstep?

Dean's eyes were wide with distress. "Maybe I have some vicodin in the car? I dont...what are the ingredients?"

"I need some oils...pine, lavender. I need sage. I need candles, blue, back and white. You can get some of those things at the local Wegmans but I'm not sure about all of them."

"Ellis, we have to do something! Please help him."

"I know." She said, feeling her own distress build. She ran her hand along Sam's muscled back, taut through the blue fabric of his shirt.

"Dean, all I can do is try a counter spell to break it. I need the supplies. Do you want me to go get them? I can do it, but it'd be easier for me to prep mentally if I was here."

"No." Dean said, almost eager to be out of the vicinity of his brother's cries. "No. I got it. Sam, I'm gonna be right back."

Sam turned his head, still on his belly. His face was flushed. "If...this...is like labor pains I'm never getting anyone pregnant."

Dean snorted.

* * *

"Sam," Ellis pushed at him to on try and roll him onto his back. "I have something for you to drink."

"N...not thirsty."

"It's medicine. It will help with the pain." She placed a hand on his lower back and snaked the other one beneath his ribs and pressed gently.

"No!" Sam yelled. "Oh God! Oh, God! Don't touch!"

"I'm sorry hun. I'm trying to get a feel to see if there's any damage or just pain. Can you roll onto your back for me?"

"Pl..lease don't make me." He whispered into the pillow. "It's not as bad if I just lie in one spot and don't breathe."

"Come on. You can do this and then I can give you some of the tea I've got brewed for you. It should help. This is a pretty nasty hex."

Sam didn't roll over, but he did stir. She moved him gently to his side, his body tense as he rolled. His knees drew up to his chest.

"Sam. You seem cognizant right now."

"Too cognizant," he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut.

Ellis rested her hand on his high cheekbone. "Can you open your eyes for me? Please?"

Sam looked up at her, pupils dilated and awash with pain. "Hi..." he whispered.

"Sam. I need to get you over on your back so you can drink this tea." She picked up a mug with kittens on the rim. "It should help. I'm trying to keep the hex from progressing."

"Progressing?: He asked in horror, finally rolling over with a cry.

She hooked her arm underneath his head and helped him sit up slightly. Sam took the mug in a shaky hand and brought it to his lips. After a few swallows, he ran out of strength and sagged against her arm.

Unable to hold his weight, Ellis went down with him, almost pulled on top of him from the momentum, her shoulder protesting from the sudden jerk.

She tried to extricate herself from him, feeling the splash of liquid from the mug he'd dropped down the front of her shirt.

"Sorry," he said in between a sobbed breath.

"It's okay. I just couldn't hold you up, honey."

Sam tried to control his breathing, inhaling sharply through his nose and riding out the spark of pain.

"You know," she said conversationally. "I have waited a very long time to be considered old enough and eccentric enough to be able to call anyone honey. It is a special privilege granted to old black southern women and crazy cat ladies. I'm well on my way to being the latter."

Sam snorted his lips quirked into an amused smile despite himself, then winced. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I'm not okay..."

She watched his ribs rise and fall in time with his irregular hitching breaths.

"What did she do to me?" he asked, and there was a plaintive tone to his voice.

Ellis slipped her hand past Sam's guard to rest on his abdomen.

He gritted his teeth at the contact.

"Is it all in your stomach?"

He shook his head fitfully. And then suddenly, the spasm passed and he sank back panting and exhausted.

"Something get better?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely.

Ellis gave herself a mental high-five. _Herbal Tea for the win._ It would bring his pain level down a little, but she had a feeling it would sedate him as well. She felt his abdomen for swelling and rigidity. Nothing felt off. She pressed a little harder and Sam bucked under her. "Well I don't think this hex is trying to kill you, necessarily."

"I think it's trying to kill me slowly." Sam whispered weakly.

She wished she could actually talk to him. She'd known his father and brother for so long now that Sam was like a character from a novel come to life in 3 dimensions. She'd heard him described both adoringly and disparagingly by both parties. She'd seen him in visions in her mind's eye. She'd wondered if she could change his fate. Here he was now before her, soft and sweet and suffering. She wanted to know him. To get to know him like she knew John and Dean.

"It's gonna be a long night. I'm so sorry."

Sam's eyes were closed and he hummed a response.

"Still feeling better?" she asked again.

"Little," he said.

"Are you gonna be alright alone? I'm right here but I need to gather some stuff and change out of this shirt," she said looking down at the tea she was now wearing between the swell of her breasts.

Sam's royal blue shirt was soaked through in places with sweat. She looked at the dog on it. "Are you a fan of whippets?" She asked.

The question surprised him enough to draw him out of his haze a little. "Huh?" He tucked his chin down.

"Whippets. I guess it could be an Italian Greyhound...Your shirt. The dog. It's cute."

He opened his eyes to look at it. "Oh..."

"A girlfriend bought you this shirt didn't she?"

"Yeah." Sam said softly. "G..girlfriends are good for that."

Ellis smiled. "Yes. Yes, we are."

The cat jumped onto Sam's leg from the ground and he startled a little at the sudden weight.

"Taco, get off!" Ellis was ready to strangle her pet today. Although his assistance with finding the correct book was appreciated- if not the method.

Taco walked the length of Sam's body and shoved his tail into the young man's neck as he stepped on Sam's head. Sam winced and tolerated it.

"This is Taco. He's an asshole." She started to pick him up and Sam stopped her. "No. Please, let him stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Sam's big hand smoothed over the cat's back. Taco butted his head into Sam's neck and settled against his chest as he rolled to his side. Taco settled in to comfort his new friend.

 **tbc... Sam, I apologize for being such an asshole to you, sweetheart. And yes, I HAD to bring back the kitten mug from _Marking the Soul._ :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Ellis stood on her tiptoes to get into the top shelf of her kitchen cabinets and swore. Her diminutive height made it impossible to reach into her top cupboards. So why she stored her occult supplies up there eluded her. She climbed onto her countertop and balanced on her knees to pull out her incense, elaborate chalice, inlaid copper bowl, and anything else she could think of to counteract the hex. She was trying to safely climb back down when she heard Sam's keening cry of _Dean!_

* * *

Sam curled into himself suppressing a surprised sob at the sudden twist in his gut. The cat startled and jumped off of him. He was alone and scared and oddly disoriented. There was some infantile part of his mind that only knew that he wanted his brother. That his brother was the one to offer him comfort, to protect him, to take care of him. He rolled fretfully onto his back and suddenly he arched from the pain.

"Dean!" He cried out, kicking the mattress with his sneakered foot, trying to gain leverage. He tried to push himself to his feet to no avail. His teeth began to chatter.

"Easy, sweetheart." A voice soothed. "Easy."

There were hands on his shoulders, pinning him down. Sam opened his fever bright eyes and waited for them to pull focus on the face before him.

Ellis leaned in closer. "Sam." Her voice was firm. "I need you to calm down, honey."

His brows knitted together as he stared at her, uncomprehendingly.

Another wave of pain shot through him and he cried out, arching his back with it. When it subsided, he was breathless and dizzy.

"Breathe." Ellis smoothed back the tousled brown bags and laid her palm against his forehead. He was still warm. He opened his eyes again and looked at her half- lucidly. She let her hands slide down to the side of his face.

"Hurts," Sam whimpered. His breathing caught in a grimace.

"I know." She said. "I know. I'm right here."

 _Okay, so herbal tea seemed to be effective for only 20 or 30 minutes. Wonderful._ And if anything, he seemed a little worse than he had been. There was a panicked, disoriented look in his eyes that told Ellis the pain had taken over and Sam Winchester wasn't home.

"Dean?" He rolled his head fitfully sideways.

"Dean's not here right now. He'll be back." She held him still for a moment. His struggles against her was so weak that juxtaposed with his size it was almost pathetic.

"Sam," her voice was firm. "You have to stay still. Hey," she took his handsome face in both her hands and coaxed him to look at her. His hazel blue eyes were clouded and confused. "Stay with me."

Ellis heard him stop panting again and she tightened her hold on his cheeks. His 5 o'clock shadow was just able to be felt against her hand.

"Breathe, sweetheart. You have to breathe."

He furrowed his brow and managed to wheeze out. "C...Can't."

"Yes, you can. I know... I know it hurts. I'm right here." She pitched her voice into a soothing mantra, still holding his face. "It's okay. You're okay."

She was met with a whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut. She felt the muscle in his jaw clench. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"Its okay," she soothed again, half in wonder how big his hand was. How he could snap her in two if he wanted. "Its okay," she repeated. It wasn't okay. It freaking sucked, she thought, conveying none of her worry to Sam. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"Where's my brother? I need my brother."

"Dean ran out to get supplies to help you."

Sam weakly tried to pull away from her grip. He tightened his hold on her wrist a fraction.

She let him go and put her other hand over Sam's. He loosened his hold on her. "That's it, sweetheart. You're doing so good."

"Jess?" He asked softly.

Now this was a new name to her. His hand slipped into hers; she felt the coiled muscles relax a fraction. She chose not to answer his question but took a stab at it. "I'm here, baby."

Sam's wall crumpled and he let let a tear fall. "It feels like someone...is crushing my insides."

"Okay." Ellis said, stroking the inside of his thumb. "We're going to make it better. Just hang on."

"I want my brother." He said softly.

"He's coming. He'd never leave you."

* * *

Dean Winchester burst through the door not much later. He looked flustered and disheveled.

"He any better?" he asked brusquely.

"No," she said from a chair pulled up next to Sam. "He's growing more disoriented. He's been crying out for you. Tell me you got the things to help him."

"I hope so," he replied, stomping the dust off his boots. "No one believes in stocking anything in this town. I ran around to everything open." He dumped out a paper bag of various occult supplies: Candles, salt, oils. "These right?"

"We can work with this for sure." Ellis paused. "Well I guess all the studying on how to break hexes is about to be put to the test. I've never really had much of the opportunity to practice on anyone... Too bad it's not always as easy as burning the hex bag."

Dean shook his head. "He looks awful."

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Dean?"

Dean plastered on a fake smile and a light tone. "Hey Sammy."

Ellis picked out a vial of liquid and moved to the bed.

"Sam, honey," she touched it to his lips and he turned his head away and tried to bat at it ineffectually with his hand.

"Hey. Hey there, Sammy." Dean took him by the wrists, his jaw tight. "Don't kill the help, huh?"

"Dean..." Ellis dropped her voice. "Some of this is not going to be very comfortable for him."

The older man nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed and kept a hold of Sam's wrists, bracing himself for a fight.

Ellis placed a hand on Sam's chin and gently pried his mouth open. She tipped his head back slightly and dumped the liquid down his throat. Sam choked a little and tried to twist out of Dean's hold.

"No. No." Dean said with a tight smile. "Easy, Tiger."

Ellis lit a blue candle that Dean had brought and placed it inside a circle of salt she'd laid out on the floor. The smell of sulfur from the match stung the air and Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste.

She picked up the pine oil and mixed it with her almond carrier oil, then put some on her palm. She locked gazes with Dean and he nodded and shifted his position behind Sam. He pulled the younger man's head and shoulders half into his lap and wrapped his arms around Sam's chest. Sam winced at the movement.

Ellis pulled up his shirt again and touched her fingers to his abdomen. Sam cried out and arched his back, digging his heels into the mattress.

"Its okay, Sam." She soothed.

"Stop!" He cried. "Stop! Please stop!"

"Sammy." Dean's voice was firm. "Its okay, buddy." Sam fisted his hand into Dean's leather jacket. Ellis pressed harder, tracing the lines of the musculature along his abdomen. His protest broke into a choked sob. Dean winced in sympathy but held him in place.

She took her hand away. Sam lay panting, hand still gripping onto Dean's coat.

"Okay." Dean frowned. "This is the last time either of us is going to get hit with a hex. This freaking sucks. I've seen him take knife wounds a lot better than this. I think being shot would hurt less."

"You're lucky they didn't want you dead. The goal of this one seems to be pain."

"N...Not lucky." Sam whispered.

Ellis smiled. "Well that's an improvement, you can follow our conversation."

Dean untangled Sam's large hand from his jacket. "Is that it?" he asked eagerly. "Is it over?"

"No, but we have to be precise about when we do the other parts. I'm hoping he's got a break from the discomfort in the interim. Maybe we can get him to drink something."

Dean pressed his knuckles into his forehead. " _I_ need to drink something."

He tried to extricate himself from Sam but Sam wordlessly grabbed his arm.

"My leg is cramping, dude. I gotta move." Dean said gently.

He pried Sam's hand off and stood up, carefully lowering the younger man's shoulders back onto the mattress. Sam looked so young, so utterly boyish, suddenly limp and pliable.

Dean stretched. "I really do need something to eat."

"Me too." Ellis walked with Dean in the direction of the kitchen. "He's been asking for someone named Jess. That a girlfriend?"

She watched Dean wince. " _Was_ a girlfriend." He dropped his voice. "She died a couple months back. Same thing that killed mom."

 _"What?"_ Answers fell into place. That's why Sam was with him again and not in his ivy league school.

"Same exact thing happened." Dean stuck his nose in the refrigerator. He grabbed the milk cartoon and took a swig.

"Dean!" She smacked his ass hard. "Knock it off! There are cups. The only one who drinks out of the carton here is me."

Dean's hips rocked forward with the blow and he looked at her with surprise. "Yes, m'am."

He started to put the carton away and then stopped mischievously. "You gonna spank me again if I don't follow orders?"

Ellis shouldered him out of the way and pulled out a container of potato salad. She could feel Dean hovering behind her. He was truly incorrigible. She ducked under his arm and set it on the counter. "You want any?"

His eyes traced her body in full flirt mode. "Is that a trick question?"

"I mean the salad, Dean. We've been over this already." Ellis said, her voice suddenly business-like.

He closed the fridge with his foot and smiled. "I know. I like to rile you up."

"You can't just drop a bomb like that and then deflect. What happened to Sam's girlfriend?"

"I told you. Same thing as happened to mom."

"What's your father have to say about it?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. He won't return my calls."

Ellis' mouth gaped open. "Something like that happened and he's not responding to you? What the hell? Is he hurt? Is he dead?" Her heart gave a thump.

"Look, I told you he ghosted on me! He ghosted on me, I went to Stanford to talk to Sam. We came back to his apartment and..." he paused, ran a hand over his face. "Yeah. Jessica died. So Sam's been with me looking for Dad."

"Oh my god, Dean."

"It's no big deal." He said in response to her worry.

"No big deal? _Dean!"_

"Look Ellis I feel bad enough okay? I don't need to be a drama queen about it. This is what happened. I have to deal. Step one is getting Sam better. So what's the next thing to do to break the hex?"

Ellis tried to swallow her annoyance. He was right.

"The usual. Some oils, some incantations, a little blood letting."

"Sounds like a party." Dean started to scrounge around in her cupboard. He found a bag of potato chips.

"We have to wait a few hours. The spell needs to start precisely at midnight."

"God. Why do they have to be so precise? I'm so sick of this Harry Potter Hogwarts bullshit. If I never see another witch again it's going to be too soon."

"I'm so mad at your father," Ellis said as if she hadn't heard him.

Dean's expression grew guarded. "I have to trust he has a reason."

"He's being an asshole, reason or not." Ellis scooped a few fork fulls of slop onto her plate and shoved the rest of the container at Dean. "Eat."

He did, with rather less gusto than she remembered.

"How are you and Sam holding up?"

"Well today really sucks," Dean replied.

"No shit, Sherlock. I mean normally."

He shrugged.

"Okay," he said around a mouthful of food. "It's nice to be with Sam again in a way." He sounded distant. "Sam's pretty torn up over Jess."

"He loved her deeply."

"Yeah." Dean replied. "I think he did."

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

"Daddy never taught you table manners, did he?"

"Well, we never did have a table." Dean joked, picking up another forkful.

For some reason that struck Ellis as more sad than funny.

"It's not your fault, you know."

His fork stilled and he looked at her through his dark lashes. "What isn't?"

"Any of this. Your father disappearing, your brother's girlfriend dying, the hex, none of it."

He looked back down at the salad and shrugged. "Yeah, well..."

"I'm serious."

Dean put the container back on the counter and looked away.

"I should go back and take care of Sam." he said, grabbing for a package of potato chips.

"He's fine. I think you should stay here and take a break."

"Ellis," Dean gestured in his brother's direction. "What about that seems fine to you?"

"He's not crying and groaning. He's okay right now."

"So that's your definition of fine now?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Seems to be." She brushed her long blonde hair out of her face.

He nodded. "Well by that definition, I guess we're all fine. Where's your beer?"

 **tbc... Reviews? Please? Don't make me get out the oils and candles to summon them. :) More hurt Sam on the way.**


	4. Chapter 4

Ellis eventually wandered back into the room to check on Sam. He was still flushed and sweating but over all he was much quieter. -That exhausted quiet that comes after a respite from pain. Although she could tell by the furrowed brow he didn't feel well, he at least wasn't in the kind of agony that had him thrashing and crying out. She thanked whatever deities existed for the respite.

Sam's arm was resting against his chest and he lay partially curled on his side, his mop of bangs falling into closed eyes.

She had a flash of those eyes rolling closed as Dean clutched him in his arms in the mud. Sam going limp, both men on their knees. Her throat closed and she pushed a hand through her straight blonde hair and gritted her teeth in an effort to clear her head.

Dean reappeared with some potato chips and a glass of water.

Ellis took it, wiping her hands on her shirt.

"Hey." Dean asked, studying her. "You feel alright?"

She nodded. "Headache is all. You boys take a lot of effort."

Dean shrugged and crunched a potato chip in his white teeth. "I dunno. I'm a low maintenance kinda guy. Sammy here is a picky bitch though."

Sam didn't stir at his name. Dean's brow creased but he tried to mask the concern. "Kid will do anything to get outta hunting. Even jump in front of a hex."

Ellis gave Dean a smirk and then carefully propped Sam's head up.

He groaned.

"Water." She set the rim to his lips.

Sam felt the cool touch of the glass against his skin. "Drink." She said firmly.

He didn't want water.

She pushed the cup against his teeth and he swallowed reluctantly.

"Good boy." She tipped some more down his throat and watched his adam's apple bob with the effort to take another swallow, until he grumbled a protest and turned his head.

"Well," Dean said around a mouthful of potato chips. "At least he's feeling better enough to be a pain in the ass."

"I think that's a natural thing for Winchesters...although, really, he's in a world of pain. He's doing okay." She reached over and set the glass down on a weathered nightstand, covered in crackling white paint.

"He scared the hell out of me." Dean took a swig of beer.

"I can imagine."

"I didn't know what the hell was wrong, just all of the sudden he's dropped to the floor, yelling. When Sam gets hurt he likes to go all out."

"That might be another Winchester trait."

Ellis lay Sam's head back down and looked at the clock. "Midnight can't get here soon enough."

"Are you sure it will work?"

"Dean, I'm not sure of anything at this point. I hope it will. It feels Celtic in origin. I'm gonna attack it with Celtic magick. We will see."

"You know Ellis if I don't know you so well..."

She sat on the floor against Sam's bed, her legs stretched out before her. "Then what?"

"Well I'd wonder about you." Dean settled into a small antique chair. "I mean magick kinda... I don't know, it creeps me out."

"Would you wonder about me before or after you tried to get in my pants?" Ellis asked with a sly smirk.

"Ummm... probably after."

She laughed lightly and leaned her head back against the bed. She could feel Sam's presence behind her, powerful somehow, even in his half-conscious state.

Dean paused. "I don't know, it just feels so shady."

"Sometimes, the only way to fight fire is with fire."

"Actually, water usually works pretty well," Dean countered.

"Okay, _you_ can try to fight it with water then." She replied.

Dean frowned, looked at Sam's pained face. "No. No, we'll do it your way."

"I thought you might." Ellis sounded satisfied.

Taco wandered over and scratched his nails on the closed drapes.

"Cat!" Ellis threw a pillow at him. He ran under the bed.

* * *

Midnight was almost upon them. Ellis glanced at the cat clock on the wall and snapped her fingers and gestured silently for Dean to hand her one of the oil mixtures she had prepared. She dabbed some on her fingers and drew it across Sam's forehead in the sign of a pentacle.

"I need his shirt off."

Sam pulled away protectively as she started to lift the fabric up.

She looked up to Dean, who shoved the last potato chip into his mouth and pulled the shirt over Sam's head. Sam cried out at being jostled.

"Sorry buddy." Dean ghosted his fingers over the top of Sam's head. Only once and so quickly Ellis almost missed it.

The smell of the pine oil she'd rubbed on his torso earlier wafted on the air, pungent and crisp.

Ellis poured the new oil on Sam's chest and started to rub it in. Cloves and Lavender hit her nose.

"What's in the mix? He already smells like Pine-Sol and fear."

Ellis moved her hands over Sam's body in a rhythmic gesture and begin to mutter in Gaelic. Sam's breathing grew hitched and he looked uncomfortable again. The muscles beneath his now oiled skin grew taught and he groaned.

Dean watched with concern. Not sure what to say or do. "This feels slightly inappropriate," he joked.

Her hands stilled a moment. "Dean," She warned. "Don't mess with my concentration. This thing is going to resist being pulled out of him. It's going to be a fight."

He held his hands up. "Okay, okay."

"Sam," Ellis leaned down and put her mouth close to his ear. "Sam."

Sam's eyes slowly slid open and she waited for him to pull focus. She rested a hand on his bicep. "Well hello there, Mr. Winchester," she said with a false cheerfulness.

"Hi," he said weakly, a little confused, his eyes searching hers. He swallowed hard and winced.

She put a finger gently against the slight cleft on his chin. "It's okay, sweetie." The other hand tightened on his bicep. "Can you say the words Cosaint, caomhu, didean?"

He looked weakly at her, biting his lower lip. His cheeks were flushed pink with fever.

She repeated it. "Cosaint, caomhu, didean."

"Cosaint, Cao-" he broke off, confused.

"-mhu," she finished. "C'mon, honey."

Sam's eyes slid closed.

"Sam," she placed her hands on both cheeks. She could feel the shadow of stubble starting. "Sam"

Dean came to stand next to her. "Sam!" he barked, firmly.

Sam's eyes fluttered open.

Ellis was leaning so close to him that they were inches away from touching noses.

Her thumbs stroked his cheek. She repeated the Gaelic phrase. "Do this for me, Sam."

"Cosaint, caomhu, ahhhh..."Sam squeezed his eyes shut and trembled as pain lanced through him.

She held his face still and didn't let him turn away. "Say it."

"C...cosaint..." his teeth began to chatter.

"Fuck, Dean." Ellis turned her head helplessly. "I need to get on this or he's going to go into shock."

"Here," Dean shoved her out of the way. "What is it again?"

"Cosaint, caomhu, didean."

"Right." He touched Sam's shoulder, firmly. "Sam...Sam. _Sammy!"_

Sam's pained eyes met Dean's. His jaw was trembling.

"Cosaint, caomhu, didean- _say it."_ Dean's tone remained firm. _  
_

"Cos..."

"Dammit, Sam." Dean took his brother's hand in his and squeezed hard, his left hand still on Sam's bare shoulder. "Stop being a pussy and man up!"

Sam steeled himself and started to repeat the mantra. The pain swept over him and he gripped onto Dean's hand so hard it hurt. Dean remained solid and still, like a lifeline.

Midnight was upon them. Ellis took a ram-headed knife, held the blade over the flame to sterilize it, and without hesitation, sank the blade into Sam's left forearm. Sam hissed.

"Keep chanting," she ordered.

"Eyes on me, Sam." Dean's voice was firm.

His arm began to trickle blood. She let it drip to the floor in slow monotonous drops.

"Keep him saying it." She told Dean.

Ellis muttered some invocation in Gaelic that neither brother knew, and picked up a smooth stone from the assorted bag she'd laid out next to herself on the rug. She passed it through the candle flame, let a few drops of Sam's blood drip on it and then closed her eyes and started her own chant.

Sam had broken into a sweat. He was having trouble staying focused.

Dean's hand squeezed his own. His older brother's voice drifted to him, making him repeat the Gaelic.

God, it was hard. His teeth kept chattering, his voice breaking. He felt detached from his body.

"Sam." Sam's eyes pulled focus to see Dean hovering above him. Even through his fog he could read the worry from the older Winchester. "Say it, Sam."

 **To be continued... So I did my version of research and the chant I have Sam repeated is Gaelic for "Protection." If someone knows Gaelic and I'm employing it incorrectly, feel free to let me know. Drop a review. I write faster when people fatten the Muse! Thanks all!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

C...Cosaint." Sam choked a little on the words. It was so hard to speak. He felt dizzy.

 _"Coamhu,"_ Dean said, nudging him, trying to roll out the syllables in an easy to copy manner. "Come on, Sammy."

"Coamhu." Sam repeated, glassy eyed. Why he was being made to repeat the foreign sounds was completely lost on him at this point.

 _"Didean."_ Dean urged.

Sam furrowed his brow in apparent confusion, but his trust in his brother's judgment made him try to repeat it.

"Di...aghhh!" a scream ripped from Sam's throat as as Ellis placed the rock on his stomach, a few inches below his navel.

He bucked and tried to twist away, but she pinned his hips with her hands.

It _burned._ It felt impossibly heavy and Sam fought it as he felt something begin to pull out of him toward the stone. He was desperate to get away.

The energy moved like half frozen syrup and pulled agonizingly at every inch of him as it slid down. He could feel its tendrils grabbing onto internal parts of him as it began to slide inch by inch, drawn inexorably to the talisman Ellis had created.

He tried to brush the rock off with his hand but Dean grabbed both his wrists, pinning them above Sam's head with his entire body weight.

"No! No!" Sam cried, fighting Dean with every ounce of strength he had left, his breath huffing out in loud pants. His eyes squeezed closed. _"Please!"_

The tendrils slowly, painfully began to lose their grip.

Sam let out a sob and tried to pull away. Dean and Ellis both held strong.

"Stop!" He cried, kicking his heel uselessly against the mattress.

"It's helping you, honey." Ellis said urgently. "It's pulling the hex out of you."

"No!" Sam didn't even know what he was protesting. He bent his knees up to try to gain leverage, and Ellis placed her elbows on his thighs and pushed down as she kept hold of his hips. "Keep him saying it," she ground out between gritted teeth. Sam's adrenaline was making him too fucking strong for her, even half-pinned by his brother's weight and weakened by fatigue.

Dean's voice was calm but forceful. _"Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean."_

Sam couldn't repeat the words. His mind was a white hot wash of agony and fear.

"Dean!" he cried.

"Sammy." Dean released Sam's wrists and his calloused hands moved to Sam's face. He leaned in close and gave him a gentle shake. "Say it." Dean said. "Say it."

Sam grabbed Dean's arms, involuntary tears at the corner of his eyes. "Make it stop..."

" _Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean!_ Say it! You have to say it!"

 _"Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean!"_ Sam sobbed the phrase and for a horrible moment the pain flared and then, abruptly, it broke free and slid into the stone that lay below his heaving, panting stomach.

He went limp.

"Sammy!" Dean cried.

"Dean," Ellis put her hand on his arm. He whirled as if stung. His face was streaked with tears and his chest was heaving.

Ellis was somehow surprised at them. That watching his little brother suffer hurt him so deeply.

"He's okay," she said with her trademark soothing compassion. "He's okay."

Dean's knees buckled and he slid to the floor beside his brother's bed. He dropped his head back onto the mattress, breathing shallowly.

"Tell me it's over," he said, his eyes closed.

Ellis put her hand on Sam's chest and slid it down to his pelvis, where she picked up the stone.

"It's over," she said, tossing the stone into the ring of salt. She knelt down to Dean's height and took him by the arms. "Dean, sweetheart..."

Dean opened his green eyes and picked his head up to look at her. "Never mind me. Take care of Sam."

"He's unconscious, honey."

" 'M fine."

Ellis leaned closer and very tenderly pressed a kiss against the older Winchester's forehead. He tensed and winced, almost like it hurt him.

"You look as bad as he does." She studied the stress lines on his handsome face and wanted to erase them all. There was a horrible irony that Dean Winchester never seem to crumble under blows, but a bit of tenderness set him on edge. In that moment she almost hated John for it. She stood up and turned her attention to Sam, leaving Dean to collect himself.

Sam had gone quite still, covered in a sheen of sweat and oil. She could see the twisted bed linens under him were stained with blood from his cut arm and damp with his sweat. His face had gone slack, peaceful, released from the pain.

"Is he going to be alright?" Dean finally asked from his spot on the floor.

"Yes. I'm pretty confident." She said. "Probably a little tired and sore from his ordeal tonight, but nothing permanent."

"Thank you."

She looked down to see the elder Winchester staring up at her without guile or artifice. He was impossibly angelic looking like that, almost beautiful, even if he was distinctly masculine.

"You're welcome, Dean." She put her hand on his shoulder, moved her thumb against him gently. "When you want to get off the floor, the couch is right there. I'll grab you a pillow."

Dean grabbed her hand and pressed his lips briefly to the back of it. There was nothing sexual about his demonstration, just a brief unbridled affection. Just a glimpse at Dean, that impossibly bright soul she'd seen years earlier.

It was all the payment she needed.

When he let go, she made sure to drag her fingers lightly through the short cropped hair as she walked away.

 **Okay, I'm done with the hurt...maybe some comfort? :) Thanks to the very few who have reviewed. It is so appreciated.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Sam lazily opened his eyes. He didn't recognize where he was and it disoriented him for a moment.

"Well hello, sweetheart." A soothing voice said from his side. He turned his head to see a blonde woman heading toward him. Her blue eyes were warm and concerned.

Sam blinked, shifted and immediately regretted the movement.

"Take it easy." She sat on a delicate looking antique chair she had pulled next to his bedside and angled her head down to peer at him. She smiled kindly and it crinkled the corners of her eyes. "You're safe now, but that hex hit you good. You're probably not going to feel great for a while."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to put together a kaleidoscope of images. "I'm sorry...I don't remember who you are?"

She smiled, putting her hands between her knees and still leaning over to look down at him. "You wouldn't." Her voice was still soft.

"Where-" he began slowly.

"You're at my place."

"-is Dean?" Sam finished.

She smiled. "He's asleep on the couch just over there." She saw the relief register in the changeable eyes.

"I'm Ellis," she told him. "I'm an old friend of Dean and your dad's."

"Dad has friends?" He quipped.

Her expression faltered a little. "Yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

Sam seemed to understand that the barb was not well received and he lay there, not certain what to say for a moment.

Her hand went to his hair and slowly pushed a tangle of bangs off of his forehead. Her touch was very gentle, almost familiar. "You hungry?"

"Thirsty," Sam replied.

She reached over to the crackled white nightstand and handed him a glass of water. "Figured you might be."

Sam took the glass and tried to prop himself up on one shoulder. He was so sore that he began to quake with the effort.

She put an arm behind his back and helped him hold his weight as he took a few deep swallows.

"That's it," she pulled the rim away from his lips. "Not too much. We don't need you barfing up water."

She took the cup away and he collapsed back onto the mattress. "You've been through a lot. I think you're going to need a few days." She replaced the cup on the nightstand, seemed to be watching him closely.

Sam felt a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "Yeah," he replied honestly. "That was... horrible. Really... horrible. I can't think of another word for it."

Ellis brushed her fingers over his hair again in a distinctly maternal gesture. "It should be over. You remember much?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Kinda... a little." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts.  
"Dean is fine?" He asked abruptly.

She smiled. "Yes, he is. Except for worrying about you."

"Normally he's a light sleeper. I thought he'd have heard us by now."

Ellis looked over her shoulder. "Normally he is, but I drugged his tea."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise and then a slow smile crept across his face, revealing a flash of dimples. He snorted. "You're serious?"

"Oh yes. He's been worried sick. hovering, pacing, driving me fucking crazy. He wouldn't sleep, so...well his ass will sleep now at least."

"Wish I had a way to drug him myself sometimes. He's a pain."

"That he is." Ellis leaned forward and took Sam's wrist. She settled on one of his pulse points and stilled, counting in time with her watch.

After a minute she seemed satisfied.

Instead of releasing her grip, she slid down to Sam's palm and twined her fingers with his.

Sam's face registered surprise at the tenderness of the gesture.

"Its okay." She said softly, adding a gentle pressure to the action. "Relax, Sam." She squeezed his hand again.

Slowly, and quite unlike his brother's reluctant acceptance of tenderness, Sam relaxed and squeezed back with a soft "Thank you."

"Anytime, honey. I'm just happy you're feeling better."

She let his hand go before it became awkward. "This is a little odd. I feel like I know you. John and Dean talked about you a lot."

Sam's eyes became a little guarded. "I'm sure it's all very flattering. Especially from my Dad."

Sam turned his head sideways and caught sight of Dean's form sprawled across the couch at the far end of the room. The visual soothed him a little further.

"I'm so tired,'' he said.

"Well that happens doesn't it?"

"Did you drug my tea too?"

"Since you've only had water that would be difficult." Ellis answered with a grin.

Sam decided that he liked her.  
He started to feel drowsy and his hazel blue eyes fluttered closed and he surrendered to sleep.

"Sammy."

Sometime later, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean leaning over him. His brother looked disheveled and groggy.

"Hey," Dean said with a sloppy smile as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Hey." Sam replied hoarsely. He realized someone had covered him with a blanket. He pulled it down a bit and looked at his brother. "You look like hell."

"Ditto." Dean replied, still scrubbing at his eyes. They were red rimmed and a little swollen. "I'm so freaking tired." He shook his head. "I feel like I want to sleep for a year. Ellis's fucking cat keeps sleeping on my head." He rubbed his nose on his own shirt. "Fucking Nacho."

"Taco," Sam corrected instinctively. Then paused to try to figure out how he knew that.

"Whatever. Some Mexican food." Dean cleared his throat, sounded like he was trying to clear his sinuses. "Shit, I'm tired."

Sam started to sit up and groaned. He felt sorer then before if that was possible and his bladder told him that he needed to use the bathroom.

He leaned up against the headboard and looked balefully at Dean. "Then why don't you sleep, Dean?"

The older Winchester shrugged. "I just woke up and I kind of wanted to make sure that you were okay. I mean _really_ okay." He gave Sam a serious look out of his bloodshot eyes.

"I'm okay." Sam replied. _"Really."_

Dean nodded. "Okay, cause you were in a pretty bad way. You kinda scared me, man. I've never seen you like that."

Sam locked gazes with him. "I'm fine," he said and even though his tone was quiet, his eyes were strong and clear.

Dean nodded. "Okay." He stood up and a half-reeled into the wall.

"Jesus, Dean." Sam said.

"Dean. Sweetheart." Ellis's feminine voice cut the silence. She rounded the corner and put her arm around the older Winchester to steady him. "You need to go back to bed."

"'M fine." Dean scrubbed at his eyes, almost petulantly, like a child.

"You're so full of shit. Go to sleep."

"Your dumb cat won't leave me alone."

"I'll make sure to shoot him for you."

"I don't know why I'm so tired."

Ellis glanced over to Sam and gave him a wink. He suppressed a smile. "Because when people need sleep there's this weird phenomenon where they become tired."

"Ha." Dean said unamused, taking a few weaving steps with Ellis under his arm.

Taco was already lying on the couch. He looked at Ellis challengingly.

"Off!" She barked. "Leave him alone."

Taco thrashed his tail and set his bulk against the cushion. Ellis kicked the couch. " _Off!_ Hey, lie down and let me help your brother to the bathroom."

Dean dropped back to the couch. He swatted away her hand as she tried to cover him with a blanket. "I'm fine."

"You're so full of shit."

Taco jumped back onto his head.

"Oh come on!" Dean whined.

Ellis picked her cat up. "What can I say, Dean? Pussy likes you."

Dean took up the cue and smiled without opening his eyes. "Sure does."

Ellis laughed. "Go to sleep."

She walked back over to Sam who was already climbing out of bed.

Ellis dumped Taco onto the ground. She moved to help him.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Jesus! Is that a family motto?"

Sam's dimples flashed. "Yeah. I think so."

"What are you doing up?"

"I have to pee," he said a little plaintively.

"Okay," she pointed to the right. "Bathroom is over there."

Hovering by his elbow, she kept in tandem with his halting stride.

"Ellis," Sam said. "No offense, but even if I do fall I weigh over a couple hundred pounds. What are you, 120?"

"118."

Sam snorted. "I'm going to crush you if you catch me. Plus," he said, bracing himself against the bathroom door frame and smiling warmly. "I'm fine."

He winked at her and shut the door.

Ellis had the sudden familiar impulse to kick a Winchester.

 **tbc... Reviews. You know I love 'em. Thanks guys.**


	7. Chapter 7

Dean knocked Taco off the table with his elbow. "Seriously, what is with the freaking cat? "

"He likes you, Dean." Sam said, shoveling a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah, lucky me." He looked to Ellis, still a bit disheveled but decidedly awake. "Where did you get him from?"

"He's a stray. He heard that I was an unwed woman over forty and so he showed up on my porch." Ellis said, gathering Dean's cereal bowl.

Sam snorted. The smile lit his face up with a boyish charm.

"You're looking a lot better today, Sam." Ellis told him warmly. "Your color is back."

"I'm feeling better," Sam said.

Ellis studied him a moment. There was a kind of soberness about Sam that Dean didn't have. Some sort of serious outlook on life that reminded her of John.

 _Where was John?_ He still hadn't called her back. Not a text. Not a call. Not a smoke signal...nothing.

"I just don't understand why your father isn't helping you boys." She toyed with a dish towel and wiped around the basin sink, more to give herself something to do than to have any true purpose.

Sam's expression shuttered immediately. Ellis was surprised at the quickness of it. "Yeah that makes three of us."

Dean looked at him sharply. "Do _not_ start."

Sam met the rebuke with his own defiance, and Ellis saw another glimpse of John in him. She could almost picture them locking horns-all pride and anger.

"Dean, he didn't even contact me when you were dying."

"What?" Ellis looked at them horrified and tossed the towel into the sink.

"'M not dyin," came the churlish answer.

Sam answered him with a mute stare. "Yes, you were."

"Knock it off." Dean warned, a hint of menace creeping into his voice.

"Dean," Ellis felt her eyes fill.

"Ellis, chill out. I'm fine. Just had a brush with the reaper is all. We need to be goin' anyway. Sam's feeling better. I got a call from Bobby about a place about 5 hours from here that could use our help."

"Were are you going?"

"Up near Niagara Falls. Maybe I can throw Sam in a barrel over the waterfall. Might be entertaining."

Ellis looked over to Sam who still looked distinctly unhappy. There was some sort of strange power in his brooding silence. Some sort of power in him, as unassuming as he was.

His older brother pushed up from the table. His annoyance telegraphed by his movements.

Ellis watched them in sympathy. "I don't even know how to defend him on this. I'm sorry, boys."

Dean dumped the bowl in the sink. "Nothing to be sorry for. Not your fault. Sometimes things just kinda suck. Getting tired of this shit though. Sam, you feelin good enough to travel?"

Sam rolled his neck experimentally. "Yeah. Think so."

"You two should really stay for a few more days." She urged.

"Already been here for a few days, Ellis." Dean shuffled his feet against the wood floor.

She shook her head. "So impatient."

"I wanna get back on the road. Don't appreciate sitting here doing nothing. Places to go. Monsters to gank."

Sam shook his head with a quiet look of disapproval.

"Being still makes you anxious." Ellis observed.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"It does."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. I wanna get back to work. Don't you have something better to be doing than looking after me and Sam?"

"You mean like a normal job?"

"What do you do, Ellis?" Sam asked. "I mean besides break hexes? Not that I'm not really grateful for that one." He graced her with a flash of his dimples.

"I read tarot... Psychic readings. And to supplement my income...you know those annoying survey people that call that you want to stab in the face?"

Sam huffed. "Yeah?"

"I do that."

"Oh," Sam smiled, revealing the dimples again and the perfect white teeth he'd obviously inherited from his father. "Your face looks remarkably well preserved if there have been any stabbings."

"I've been lucky in the face rearranging department. Been called all kinds of names though."

It was good to see Sam's smile instead of the ball of pain he'd been in a few days earlier.

Dean began pacing a restless circuit around the room, finally looking in the fridge. Ellis rued that she'd let up on Dean's drugged tea.

"Same shit is in there as was there 10 minutes ago," she admonished.

Dean closed the fridge. "I know."

He sat back down, jiggling his leg.

Ellis walked over to him and gathered him into a hug from his spot on the chair. "I'm going to miss you."

He sighed and leaned his face into her chest. "Of course you are. I'd miss me too." His voice was muffled.

Ellis thought of her Visions of Dean. Years ago now. None had come true. Her eyes drifted to Sam who was watching his brother with an undisguised affection.

 _Oh Sam._ Crumpled, lifeless, lying in Dean's arms. If only she knew how to warn them. Could make heads or tails of her Visions. She couldn't and worrying them would do nothing to help them.

She somehow knew without a doubt that Sam's compassion would be his undoing. She just didn't understand how.

Ellis kissed the top of Dean's hair and he looked up at her through his dark lashes, all handsome beauty, and she remembered their night tangled on the couch. -Being interrupted with him was probably the biggest disappointment in her life to date. Done was done. No going back now.

She patted his back and went to the cupboard to grab a mug. She was going to miss them both.

Both of them with those shining, selfless souls that matched their physical beauty. She cursed her Gift and broken Winchesters that made her care about them.


	8. Chapter 8

Ellis decided to change the linens on the guest bed. They were covered in scented oil and sweat and even a drop or two of Sam's blood. She felt tired and worn out from the whole ordeal. Magic of any kind took a certain amount of concentration and simply dealing with the pain Sam had been in had drained her. She slipped on a fresh fitted sheet. Lavender-colored cotton with little flowers. It was soft and well-loved and she struggled to tuck the sides down. Each time she'd thought she'd secured one corner and moved to the other, the first came untucked.

"Goddamn fucking sheet!" Ellis punched the pillow. This had not been her week.

Taco jumped on the bed.

"No! You, off! You're going to make it so much worse."

Taco sat in the middle of the bed, glaring at her with his _make me_ expression. She ignored him and threw the sheet over his head, leaving the cat-shaped bulge under the quilt as she finished.

The growl of a truck in the driveway stopped her dead and she knew who it was without needing to look.

Even so, Ellis darted to the window and swept the lace curtain out of the way in time to watch the black GMC rumble to a stop.

A few moments later John Winchester stepped out, all whiskey and worn and rough around the edges. He had about a week's growth of scruff. More than stubble, but less than any thing that could ever be called a beard.

His broken in pair of jeans fit him loosely as he moved. She recognized his work boots with their worn tread, his brown canvas carhartt jacket. He looked just as he always did. Ellis choked down tears of relief and closed the curtain.

* * *

John knocked at the door and Ellis swung it open almost immediately.

He greeted her with a warm smile. "Hi Ellie..."

"John Winchester, you fucking asshole."

John seemed unfazed by the outburst. He leaned casually against the door frame with one hand and regarded her with detachment. "Don't hold back, Ellie, tell me what you really think."

"You're not funny!"

"That's the thing about you Ellie, you never tell me what's on your mind."

John gave her his little half-smile.

"You're not fucking cute, either!" Ellis lunged for Taco, who decided to make a break for the outdoors. She grabbed him and held him under one arm. He surrendered and went limp like a deflated balloon, white cat feet dangling.

"I would guess not," John replied, although his eyes still held a glint of amusement. "Can I come in? Or am I relegated to living on the porch?"

She whirled around and let the screen door slam in his face.

John opened it and followed her in before closing the heavy wooden front door with a precision of movement.

Taco began to squirm like a possessed weasel, twisting his body in hysterical gyrations until Ellis let him go and he bolted for the couch.

John stood in front of her and put his hands in his pockets. "I gotta say, I was hoping for a more welcoming reception."

He ducked his head and smiled at her from under his long dark lashes. The gesture was so much like Dean her heart stuttered at it. "You want to fill me in on why you're so angry?"

"Where do I start?" Now that her fury was starting to peter out, she felt decidedly emotional. "Where have you been?"

"I came when I got your call." John responded, as if his standing in front of her excused his behavior.

" _Days_ after." Ellis crossed her arms in a self-protective sort of way. Closing herself off from his energy. "Why didn't you answer? Text? I was worried about you."

John's gaze moved sideways and he looked at a spot on the antique moulding before he responded back.

"So how is Sammy?" he asked abruptly, his demeanor turning serious.

Ellis paused, thrown off her guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. "He's fine. No thanks to you..." Her small features twisted before she regained her ability to speak. "He was _so_ sick, John...So fucking sick!" Ellis started to lose her composure and she had to stop to get the waiver out of her voice, she needed to hold onto the anger or she knew she'd fall apart. "He had a really high fever. He was in... _so_ much pain. He was lying there for hours, crying out for Dean and for his girlfriend. Not you though. Doesn't cry out for you because he knows you won't be there."

"Ouch, _hey_." John said, a little on the defensive. He crossed his arms, mirroring her posture. "I don't have to stand here and listen to this shit."

"Where have you been? Your boys... those boys are so scared... You can't let them know you're fucking alive?" Ellis felt her anger picking up steam again. "You just run off like that on them? Let Dean die and don't come to see him. Don't even call? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Okay," John replied gruffly. "First off, Dean isn't dead. Secondly, the boys have each other. As long as they're together, they'll be okay."

"Oh, bullshit!" she yelled.

"Alright," John bristled. "Are you going to shut up and let me talk or not?" There was something commanding in his tone that made her listen.

Ellis stood seething, her chest moving rapidly. She almost wanted to launch yourself at him. "I'm so mad at you right now."

"I get the hint."

She didn't move from her spot in the living room, arms crossed, her curtain of straight blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. Her blue eyes held a dangerous glint.

John cocked his head. "Sometimes you look an awful lot like Mary."

"Yeah? You piss her off too?"

"Oh Ellie," John ran a hand over his beard and shook his head and she could feel the world weariness rolling off of him in a sudden wave. "Can we _not_ do this, huh? Can you just be happy to see me?"

"I _am_ happy to see you, you dumb bastard!"

John barked a laugh. "So I guess if you were unhappy, I'd be wearing my intestines as a necklace."

Ellis snorted despite herself and then broke into a sob. Her eyes were red-rimmed, making the blue stand out more somehow.

"Ellie..." He reached out for her and she walked into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. He had almost a foot on her. It was easy to forget when she was puffed up with righteous anger. "Don't cry."

He wrapped her in his arms.

She nuzzled into him. "Shut up. I'll do what I want."

A half- smile tugged at one side of John's lip. "Truer words were never spoken."

He moved his hand to stroke her lower back. "I kind of missed you."

"I hate you right now, so shut up so I can be pissed."

"Ellie, you do not make my life easy." His low voice rumbled under her ear and she snuggled into it, breathing in his smell of leather and whiskey, smoke and gun powder, and whatever cheap Old Spice deodorant he used. She could hear the measured thump of his heart.

He held her like that a moment, his big hand spread across the arch of her lower back. "Well, you've definitely never been this upset about me not getting back to you before."

"I didn't have your boys turn up half-dead on my doorstep saying you've gone MIA for months either."

He let her go, suddenly tired of the lecture.

"I've had a rough few months. Probably shouldn't even be here."

He shouldered past her into the kitchen, his boots loud on the hardwood. He dug into the highest cupboard and found the bottle of Jack he left behind the flour.

Ellie watched him impassively. "What's going on?"

"Well," he pulled out a glass for himself and looked to her questioningly, raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, you damn teetotaler." He poured himself two fingers and stood facing the back splash for a moment. "I can't really tell you."

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

He turned around casually and leaned his back against the counter. "No."

He took a sip, looked at her over the rim of the glass and smiled at her, his dimples showing through his salt-and-pepper scruff of beard. His dark eyes were mischievous. "Comes naturally." He sobered. "The less you all know the safer you are."

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

"Ellie, I'm onto something really dangerous. Big. I can't bring it after my boys. Don't want to lead it to you either." He paused. "Probably shouldn't be here. I just... I _needed_ to hear how they are doing."

"Do you want me to lie?"

He drained the glass and shook his head. "No." John rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm tired." He set the glass down. "Give it to me."

"Dean is a wreck. Sam is... Sam was in so much pain."

"You told me that, " he reminded, as eager to cut to the chase as he always was.

"He got hit with some sort of hex and it was a nasty one."

"Aren't they all nasty?" John watched her carefully.

"Well, yes. It could have been more lethal, honestly. This just wanted to hurt him and it was really tied into him. Really had dug right into his body. I had to drag it out quite literally."

"Sounds pleasant."

"Yeah." Ellis replied flatly. "It was great. That poor baby."

John's gaze was measuring. "Is he okay though? Long term?"

"Well now he is."

John looked relieved.

"He's torn up about his girlfriend," Ellis continued.

His eyes turned dark. "Yeah."

" He seems mad at you." Ellis returned the measuring gaze, her arms still crossed.

A Snort. "Yep. That sounds like Sam."

"He has every reason to be."

John went quiet for a moment. "She was a real pretty young thing. I'm sorry that had to happen to him."

"Be nice if he heard it from you."

"Ellie," John said in the same warning tone he used on his boys. "Do not start with me."

Of course that backfired.

"You said you wanted the truth. If you're not man enough to deal with it-"

He could sense her winding up again. "I am too tired for this bullshit. I just need the facts."

"You need a slap upside the head!"

Rankled, John took a step toward her. "You know what, woman? Do it. Slap me and get it the fuck over with so I can take a nap and get out of here."

For the first time since he'd known her, Ellis seemed intimidated by him.

"Do it. I won't stop you." He had encroached on her space and she held her ground, although he could feel her wanting to shrink back. Satisfied, he dropped his guard and was about to turn. "Now if we're done here..."

Ellis slapped him.

John's eyes widened in shock a moment as the sound reverberated through the room. " _Goddamn,_ you hit hard for a little thing." There was amusement in his voice as he rubbed his cheek. "Now are we done? Can I please borrow your bed?"

Ellis seemed equally shocked that she hit him. "John, I'm sorry."

" Ellie, I invited you to do it. But I need a bed. I'm reeling on my feet here."

She stood in the kitchen shell-shocked at her own behavior. "You know where the guest bed is... I think I need a drink."

* * *

John crashed his body onto the guest bed without taking anything off. His head hit the pillow and the smell of pine assaulted his nose. He closed his eyes and opened them again as he felt something tugging at his feet.

Ellis was untying his work boots and tugging them off.

The steel toe rang loudly as it hit the floor. "..'llie," he grumbled.

"Come on," she started to pull at his brown canvas jacket. He let her manipulate his arm and work one sleeve off.

She tried to pull off the other but he was a dead weight.

"John," she said plaintively, holding one half of his jacket in her hand.

"'M tired," he replied, without opening his eyes.

"I'm trying to get you into bed."

"...am in bed." His voice was even gruffer than usual and sleep laced.

She sighed. He finally rolled onto his side, facing her and she awkwardly leaned over him to pull the material from his back.

His arm snaked around her and pulled her onto the bed with him. "Come here."

She let out a surprised squeak and bounced as she hit the mattress. He still had his eyes closed but he smirked at her squeal.

Ellie continued her task from a recumbent position, until she peeled off the sleeve with with a huff of victory and dumped his Carhartt on the floor.

Then she settled in next to him. He threw an arm over her and she found herself pressed against him. His deep evenly spaced breaths revealing he was on the edge of sleep.

"We're cuddling now?" She asked.

"Mmmhmmm."

She reached up and brushed his dark bangs off of his forehead.

He pulled her into him a little tighter and she resigned yourself to being pressed against his chest, his chin resting lightly on top of her head for a minute until he shifted.

" 'llie stay." He drifted to sleep.

 **tbc..**


	9. Chapter 9

The highway rolled by in a monotonous ribbon of black top and white lines. "How are you hanging in there, Sam?"

Dean glanced sideways at his brother, tried to hide the concern.

Sam was slouched down and had his head leaned back against the seat and window as much as he could. "I'm fine."

Dean's cell rang from inside his coat pocket. He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and fished it out, spared it a glance while trying to keep his eyes on the road.

It was a blocked number. He adjusted Baby's trajectory with one hand on the wheel and squinted at the phone again.

Sam's face was a study in curiosity. He sat up and looked over. "Who is it?"

"Dunno, number is blocked." Dean flipped it open.

"Hello?" He asked gruffly, anticipating another hunter. Perhaps a call from Bobby.

It was a woman's voice. "We need people to participate in our national survey. Your help would be invaluable, sir."

Dean's brow darkened. "Listen here, bitch..." He opened his mouth to launch into some verbal abuse before he hung up the phone and the woman's voice cut him off.

"Please, Mr. Winchester. I just need a moment of your time."

Dean sat baffled for a second. He took his foot off the accelerator. "How did you even get this number? This is a private cell-" he stopped. He didn't even have the cell under his real name.

Suddenly the familiarity and slightly northern cadence of the voice clicked into place and Dean shook his head with a smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth. "I'd love to participate in your survey, ma'am."

Sam's brows knitted together and he wrinkled his nose in confusion.

"Thank you. First off do you listen to NPR?"

"No," Dean responded, his eyes on the road. "I listen to AC/DC."

"Are you a registered Democrat or Republican?"

Dean snorted, rested his tongue between his teeth and adjusted the phone to his ear. "I think all politicians are lying douchebags."

"Which candidate are you planning to vote for in November?"

"None of them."

"Do you prefer to be the spanker or the spankee?"

Dean snorted at the impertinence of the question and a genuine smile lit up his features, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He hummed and dropped his voice into a lower register. "Oh, the spankee."

Beside him, Sam looked startled and mouthed to him: _What the fuck?_

Dean glanced at his brother from under his long lashes and give a crooked grin and a wink.

"Blondes or brunettes?" She continued in his ear.

"Oh, I'll take them any way they come, sweetheart."

"Wrong answer."

Dean shook his head. "Blonde," he replied, playing along.

"That's better." The voice became breathy. "Do you dream about making out with blonde women on couches?"

"Incessantly," Dean purred. "Ellis, you gotta watch it. You're gonna make my pants tighter with these questions and poor Sam is sitting here with a view to the show. "

"Thanks for completing our survey." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"God, if all surveys were like this I'd complete them for a living."

Ellis laughed finally.

Dean kept his smile, adjusted the phone to the other ear and switched hands on the wheel. "What's the call for? I'm assuming it's not for phone sex- which is unfortunate."

"Dean, I wanted to let you know that John is safe."

"What?" Dean swung the car wildly to the shoulder of the highway and jammed on the brakes so quickly that Sam had to catch himself on the dashboard to avoid smacking his head on the windshield. "God, Dean!"

"You heard from him? Where is he? What's going on?"

"Calm down sweetheart. He's safe."

"That doesn't tell me squat, Ellis!"

"He was here." She replied.

"Okay," Dean frantically began to look over his shoulder for a viable spot to turn around. "We're on our way."

"He's gone."

"How long ago?"

There was a hesitation.

"How long ago? Ellis, I'm not kidding!" Dean's tone grew harsh.

"Half a day."

"Why did you wait half a fucking day to call us! Which way was he headed?"

"I don't know...Dean, calm down."

"I am freaking calm!" He yelled.

Sam grabbed the phone from his brother's shaking hand and put it between his shoulder and ear. "Ellis, it's Sam. Where is Dad?" He asked in his smooth tenor.

"He stopped in and took off. I can't give you details."

Sam's jaw clenched. "Well why not?"

Her tone grew defensive. "Don't you get mad at me too."

"We've been looking for him with no trace for months, Ellis. Dean almost died, I got hit with a freaking hex and he can't give us a call? We want to know what the hell is going on!"

"The hex is why he showed up and made sure I took care of it, Sam. He wouldn't tell me much either." Her tone was earnest, almost desperate. "I told him to call you. I tried. He didn't want me to contact you at all. I just had to let you know he was alive. He is."

The anger went out of Sam. "Okay, I guess. I know you'd tell me what you could."

"How is Dean?"

Sam glanced over at Dean's tight expression. "Pissed."

"Can you put him back on?"

"Sure."

Sam handed the phone to Dean.

"Dean, your Dad has a reason, you know that."

Dean exhaled slowly. "Yeah." He ran a hand over his face, his lip trembling a little. "Yeah."

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." She soothed.

Dean went quiet.

"Do I have to make you complete another survey?" Ellis asked, her tone suddenly teasing.

Dean paused again, closed his eyes and forced himself to get his emotions back under control. He swallowed and when he was sure his voice wouldn't betray him replied. "Maybe..."

"The spankee, huh?" Ellis asked, trying to lighten the mood. "You know what I do with bad boys, Dean? What I really do to them?" She dropped her voice into something seductive.

"Huh?" Dean asked, still distracted by the news about his father.

"I take them and bend them over the kitchen table..."

"Yeah?" Dean asked. Half interested despite himself.

"And I press them into it... and I let Taco crawl all over the back of their head."

Dean laughed.

"And then I lock them in the closet with the cat and a box of kleenex for 6 hours. So do you want to be a bad boy, Dean?"

"No." He answered. "No. I'll be good, I promise."

"You promise, _what?_ "

"That I'll be good."

"No... Miss Parnecki. I promise, Miss Parnecki. Or at least I promise, Mistress. Jeez Dean, you are no good at this."

He blushed a little and shook his head. "Yeah, and you're awesome at it. The cat and the kleenex had me so hot. Although I wouldn't mind you bending me over that table."

"Dean! Jesus!" Sam glared at him.

"Sorry Dean, I bend you over the table, the cat walks on your head, that's just how it goes."

Dean gave Sam a sideways glance. "Sam is shooting me the most epic bitch face ever. Probably because he's never bent anyone over a table."

"Dean!"

"Okay. I should go."

Ellis went quiet. "You...take care of yourselves okay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't be a stranger. Give me a call."

"Okay." He meant nothing by the promise and he was sure that Ellis knew it.

"I'll see you around, handsome."

Dean never knew that after Ellis hung up the phone, she started to cry.

 **Reviews? Please? Had none on my other story...I need a pick me up. Drop me a line.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note: So I'm late in updating this because I struggled as to whether I should include this chapter and how much I should include. I agonized and rewrote and rethought and this is where the story wanted to go. I hope you'll continue on this journey with me.  
_

 _Warning: Contains sexual content. You will never get anything vulgar from me... but this is a fairly explicit scene. Please skip this chapter 9at least until the break if that offends you...you can still pick up there or on the next chapter and should be fine ascertaining the main thread of the plot still.  
_

* * *

 ** _. Sixteen Hours Before Ellis' phone call to Dean._**

John Winchester's eyes fluttered open-all sleep and dark lashes. Some part of him expected to be alone but Ellis was studying him. He pulled focus on her face and gave her a shy, almost boyish smile. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispered back. She reached out for his hand and smoothed her thumb over the scraped knuckles. "How did you sleep?"

He blinked lazily. "Good. Really good." His eyes moved to the window. Twilight was starting to cast its weakening rays through the closed blinds. "Was I out a while?"

"Couple of hours."

"Uh oh, did I trap you here?"

"I don't mind," Ellis replied. "There are worse things than being trapped under John Winchester."

"Good," he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. "Thank you for taking care of my boys."

"I will always take care of Winchesters who show up at my door."

John let her hand go. "Even old strays?"

"Especially old strays." Ellis reached up and traced her finger along the barely visible scar near his eye. "That come to me after they get in fights."

Ellis moved her hand to his temple and gently stroked his scalp, feathering her fingers through the soft darkness of his hair.

"Awful hard on those old cats when they have younger strays around to compete with." He fixed her with a meaningful look and Ellis caught the entendre.

"I like the old battered ones just fine." He turned his head into her palm and closed his eyes as she smoothed her fingers over his scalp.

He opened them again and there was a hint of something in their depths that sent a shiver down Ellis' spine. His voice was a deep rumble. "There's so many times I'd come In here busted up or tired..."

Ellis feigned surprise. "There's another kind of John Winchester besides busted up and tired?"

He ignored her, dark eyes still intent. He turned his head and gently guided her hand away from his hairline and down between their chests. His gaze shifted to her hand and back again. "I'd come in here busted up and you'd patch me up and I'd watch these little hands of yours."

He didn't break eye contact as he brought it up to kiss her knuckles with a gentleness he seldom showed. "And I'd imagine..." the whisper of his breath stirred the air across the back of her hand, his stubble gently stroking her with each move of his jaw as he spoke.

Ellis's cheeks flushed. "Oh don't do this."

"I'd imagine how good they'd feel on me. You ever think of that, Ellie?" John drew her index finger into his mouth and Ellis gasped.

He sucked on it slowly, drawing it out incrementally and then put his lips to her palm. The eye contact alone was enough to send her heart skipping.

He moved to her wrist, grazing the soft skin with his lips and Ellis almost jerked away. "Why are you doing this now?" Her voice was quiet.

 _Shut up, Ellis. Shut up. Don't ruin this._

He went quiet and stilled. "Wanted to do this for a long time." His bangs had fallen across his forehead. "Every time I see these little hands, in fact."

Ellis closed her eyes. He leaned in closer and she could smell the slight scent of whiskey on his breath. He kissed her forehead. "Will you have me, Ellie?"

Something about his tone made her throat close up. She almost wanted to cry. "Why does this sound like goodbye?"

"I'm right here, Ellie." He nuzzled her neck. Her hands tangled in his dark hair and he moved and kissed at the juncture of her ear and jawline. The sandpaper feel of his beard against her neck made her gasp even as the softness of his tongue found her skin there.

He kissed, following the line of the tendon to the little hollow above her collarbone. He'd rolled from his side onto his hands, leaning over her, and the proximity of his body made her shiver.

"Do you want me?" He asked again, his mouth close to her ear. It shot a little shiver through her again. He nuzzled her earlobe with his nose. His voice deep and sensual. Gravelly from sleep. She felt herself grow warm.

If Dean had been a force of nature-a house on fire, John was a slow burn. A smoldering presence in the dimness of the room. Her heart hammered at his question.

The stray thought of Dean made her feel a little strange being here with him now. Like she'd blown it and she hadn't the right.

She took too long to answer him and John pulled away to meet her eyes. He didn't say anything. He just looked at her.

She blinked a few times, partially tangled in the bed linens, cheeks flushed.

 _'Ellis you idiot, say something.'_

For the first time since she'd known him, John Winchester looked as if his feelings were truly hurt. Irrevocably hurt.

"Okay," he said softly. He ran a hand over his beard, and sat up so that he was leaning against the headboard. He looked strangely vulnerable, one leg out stretched, the other bent at the knee.

She made a grab for his bicep. "Of course I want you."

He turned his head to look at her, his hair sleep mussed, his grey henley askew.

Ellis pushed herself up to her knees, and knelt to the side of him. She made a grab for his hand and they twined their fingers together silently. He didn't say anything and after a moment, she moved and nudged his knee down so that she could straddle him.

She settled her weight on his thighs and took his face in both of her hands. He put his hands on her waist. They locked gazes for a moment.

Ellis traced the faint scar on the right side of his face, the one that ran down the side of his cheek and wondered how he got it.

" Did it hurt?" She asked, her finger soothing the ancient wound.

"A little," he replied. "Wendigo. Bled a lot."

She pressed her lips to it and he closed his eyes and tensed under her. She brushed her cheek against his, her softness against his worn edges.

He turned his head and captured her lips with his own, Ellis closed her eyes at the feel of it, soft and yielding, a gentle unspoken question of "will you?" She answered back, her lips parting under his-a tentative "yes."

Her arms went around his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, pushing a little harder with a little more urgency, his hand moving to her back, holding her closer until she was pressed against him.

Their tongues mingled a moment until he pulled away slightly, his mouth still parted, breathing into her mouth.

"Ellie," he said finally, his eyes closed firmly. She rose up a little and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, almost a benediction. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and tilted his head forward to rest against hers, toying absently with the blonde hair he so loved. Mary's hair, she knew. John loved golden hair.

She sat like that a moment, her hands on his shoulders, up on her knees, John's head pressed to hers, feeling the energy pass between them. She could feel a hint of that sorrow, that sad weight that John carried around like a burden...and then, suddenly he leaned his head back against the headboard and whispered. "Put those little hands on me, Ellie."

She slipped them under the cotton of his shirt and up the flatness of his stomach, feeling his abdominal muscles contract under her touch and then she laid her palms against his broad chest reveling in the feeling of the hair there. He gave a little groan that twisted something in her stomach with a sweet pain.

He opened his eyes to look at her, drink her in. He gave his little smile. "God you are so beautiful."

"You clearly haven't been laid in a long time." She quipped.

"No," he replied somberly. "Don't you ruin this, Ellie. Not with the jokes." He leaned forward and kissed her to shut her up.

John's kisses were long, slow, deep and drawn out until Ellis felt as if she were drowning in them and not wanting to come up for air.

She kept her hands braced against his chest, feeling the rhythmic thump of his heart under them, feeling her own speed up.

John's hands slipped under her lavender t-shirt, almost the same color as the sheets beneath them.

Ellis gasped as they traced up her sides, his thumbs snaking under her bra and passing over the swell of her breasts and pausing there. Her body moved closer to him of its own accord.

She could feel him smile under her mouth as he kissed her obviously pleased at her reaction. He lifted her shirt over her head and she reached back to unclasp her bra.

His hands stilled her own.

"Let me do it." He unclasped the hook and eyes and gently slid the straps off of her shoulders, watching her carefully and then his mouth was against her neck, nipping gently, his stubble sending a shiver through her body. He bent his head further down, his chin between her breasts, his lips against her sternum.

He stayed like that for a moment, until he took her in his arms and rolled her sideways, taking her down with him onto the mattress, pulling her partially under him.

Ellis could feel her cheeks flushing, her body moving up to press against his. His weight felt fantastic against her.

There was a sudden movement on the bed near their legs and they both stopped to look at Taco who stood purring and oblivious near John's knee. John laughed as Ellis groaned and threw a pillow at the tabby.

John's dimples reminded her of Sam. "Seriously, Ellie, what is with that cat?"

Taco had skittered out of the way of the pillow and stared Ellis down until John finally elbowed him off the bed. The cat leapt at the same time, John's elbow knocking him off course and he half clawed onto her little nightstand and tried to pull himself up, instead pulling the hard covered Alexandre Dumas novel she was reading off of the side. It clattered to the wooden boards, flipping open to a page and Taco landed in an indignant whoosh on the floor.

"He's a pain in my ass." She said, enjoying John's rare smile. One that held no sadness, no weight to it, just amusement. Just John Winchester as he'd probably been ages ago.

Their legs were entwined and she purposefully raised her knee between his thighs. He exhaled with a soft moan.

She pulled at his shirt. "This isn't fair. You can't have a top if I don't."

"Life isn't fair," he teased, but he pulled the Henley over his head and tossed it aside.

"Better?" John asked, sinking his weight onto her, his skin against hers. She lazily traced between his shoulder blades, gasping at the feel of his chest against her breast and belly. She glided her hand down the arch of his lower back, under his jeans and the band of his briefs to feel his ass. John ground into her hip a little.

She pushed him over slightly and he followed her guidance until he was lying on his side.

"You don't want me on top?" He asked.

She nuzzled his neck and nipped at his shoulder. "I want to touch you."

"Oh god, please do."

She did, tracing his back and shoulders, his chest and torso his hair, his neck, even the little cleft in his chin. John alternated between watching her and letting his lids flutter closed and tipping his head back with contented sighs.

He finally took her wrist and guided her hand downward, pressed it against his crotch, closed his eyes at the feel of it. Ellis gave the hardness there a squeeze, rubbed the heel of her hand against the denim and watched his expression. He groaned in the back of his throat, which turned into a gasping whine as she ghosted lower, her fingers against the seems of his jeans.

"Oh God, Ellie," he panted, rolling his hips to thrust himself against her palm.

He was starting to flush, his cheeks coloring.

She smiled, unzipped him and teased her fingers inside his fly.

He cried out, crushed her against him so that she was pressed so tightly there that she only had the freedom to move her fingertips.

She did and John groaned again. "Are we in high school?" His voice was amused. "I feel like we're in high school."

Ellie answered by dipping her tongue into his ear.

"Oh god, we are _definitely_ in high school."

He rolled her under him again and his hands went to the button of her jeans. He dragged them down slowly, kissing her belly, making her shake. The front of her thigh, the inside of her knee and finally pulling them completely off.

She captured his mouth with hers and kissed him urgently. They pressed their bodies together, and Ellis felt the need to be closer to him, to want to melt into him. His jeans joined hers, tossed aside.

He stayed still inside her for the space of several moments, motionless except for their breathing.

Ellis' arms tightened around his neck pulling him closer to her. She tried to rock underneath him. "Oh god, John, I need you to move. Please."

He looked into her eyes, held her gaze and slowly began to move.

As he moved, she felt the layers of John's facade drop away, until she was left with something else entirely. And there was an abrupt certainty that he was saying goodbye to her. The knowledge brought reluctant tears, but suddenly John was coaxing her body to respond to him and she closed her eyes at the intensity of it, her arms still around his broad shoulders. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but settled instead for his name breathed like a prayer. "John."

He answered with a slow deep thrust and Ellis could feel him tensing, his breathing suddenly catching on gasps and moans. "It's okay, sweetheart." She whispered. "It's okay."

His hand went between them, thinking of her first, and she took it and pushed it away. "Come on, John. It's okay." She put her lips to his ear. "It's okay. Let go."

He held on for a moment longer and suddenly his rhythm stuttered and he cried out softly with a sound that made an almost pang shoot through her belly. He lay on top of her a moment, catching his breath and riding out a few after shocks that had him shuddering. She nuzzled his damp hair and kissed the side of his neck.

He captured her mouth in a long kiss and then rolled off of her, pulling her into a cuddle, spooning behind her. His hand went between her legs and she could feel him press his nose to the nape of her neck. "Your turn, Ellie."

"John, I'm fine."

"No. Don't do this to me. Please." He traced his palm along her inner thigh. "This is half the fun. Let me touch you."

She let him and despite her initial reservations, he had her coming apart under his touch. Afterwards, he kissed her temple and kept her cradled against him, warm and solid behind her. Ellis was glad that he couldn't see her cry.

* * *

The sun had set well and fully and the room had grown quite dark. The little nightlight with a censor had turned itself on. Ellis lay tangled in John's arms, feeling his breathing for a few moments and wiped away her tears. She leaned over and turned on the lamp next to the bed. John's arms were reluctant to let her go. " 'llie. Stay." He sounded a bit groggy...and something else. _Sad?_

She turned to look at him. John blinked owlishly at the sudden light from the lamp. His hair was disheveled and he reached out for Ellis' hand. The warmth of his palm settled over her fingers. He still had his head on the pillow, was rolled to his side facing her. "Can't stay long, Ellie." He said. "So come here and be with me."

Ellis sat up, not bothering to pull the sheet over her. Instead she reached for her lavender top and slipped it on. "John, what are you into?"

He looked weary. He looked like the weight of the world had crept back upon his shoulders. "I told you I can't tell you." He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her balefully. "You gonna start now?"

Ellis stood up, her face taut as she pulled on her panties. She looked back at him and her blue eyes were wounded and a little angry.

He sighed and reached for his jeans to pull them on. "Here we go." He muttered.

"So you're just going to fuck me and leave." She crossed her arms.

John stood up, his fly still unbuttoned and gaped at her. "Don't you do that Ellie! Don't you pretend this was a fuck! I made _love_ to you!" His eyes were brimming, his voice a shout. He tangled a hand in how own hair, brushed it back. "Why do you have to do this, Ellie?" She watched his bare chest hitch a breath. "You do it every fucking time."

"Do what?"

He shook his head, his jaw tight.

"What?" She angrily brushed at her stinging eyes, her nose red.

"Nevermind." He started to look around for his grey Henley, which was near Ellis' feet. She surreptitiously kicked it under the antique nightstand.

"What part of this do I have wrong?" She asked.

He snorted and shook his head. "All of it."

John ducked down and lifted the quilt to look under the bed. He stood back up looking frustrated. "Where's my damned shirt?"

She ignored him. "What are you into? What are you tracking?"

"I told you-" he sighed. "You're not going to fucking give up, are you?" He closed his jeans and started to buckle his belt. Ellis watched his stomach move with his breath.

His dark eyes met hers and he seemed to be considering. "Demon," he said. "Same thing that killed Mary."

Ellis nodded, somehow not surprised with the revelation. This was John's End Game. One he'd fought for doggedly the last twenty or so years.

It was a fight he was determined to see go down. He was on the trail and obviously over matched. And he knew it.

"You're not safe with me here." He was looking around for his shirt again, scanning the room.

"And you think I'm safe with you gone?" She countered. "I haven't been safe since I met your ass four years ago."

He looked unhappy with the knowledge.

"Can you take it out?"

"I can try. I've got to try."

Ellis thought of Sam crumpled in the mud, his sweet boyish features still, Dean's face a wreck of anguish. "No good can come of this."

"My boys aren't safe until I've killed that thing."

"Your boys aren't safe while you hunt it either."

"I know that! Why do you think I'm staying away?" His face looked pained. "You think I don't want to see my sons?" He shook his head. "I miss Dean so much I can barely breathe sometimes. I...need this to be over. I need it to be done so that Sam can go back to college... and Dean can do...well, whatever the hell he wants."

Ellis leaned against the dresser with both hands. Her hair fell in her face. She exhaled. "They need their father more than they need revenge, John."

He lifted the quilt and shook it out, increasingly agitated. "I can stop this from happening to any family ever again. That's what I do. That's what I'm going to do."

Her shoulders hitched a second and she gathered herself and stood up.

She wanted to reach for him, instead she grabbed her pants and pulled them on.

John was watching her with an unreadable expression. He put his hands on his hips and faced her.

"What?" She wiped her forearm across her eyes.

"It was a mistake to come here. I knew it."

"Right," she nodded. "Of course, sleeping with me is a mistake. Thanks, John."

He looked frustrated again. "Goddamn it! I never said that! Ellie, stop doing this!"

"Doing what!"

He turned his back to her and leaned against the wall, his breath irregular. "Stop..." his voice broke and Ellis felt her heart clench.

"John? Baby? Hey," she walked around the bed and put a tentative hand between his shoulders. They were tight with unspoken emotional weight.

She felt like he was a wary horse that might spook at her touch. He almost shrank away from her hand and into the wall.

She maintained the contact, sympathetic and gentle and true. He shifted, leaned his forehead against the wallpaper, took a shuddering breath.

She rubbed his shoulders for a minute and gently slipped her arms around his chest, feeling the dark hair beneath her forearms as they held him.

He dropped his arms to his sides, bowed his head... and then suddenly, but not unexpectedly, John Winchester broke.

 ***Nervous eyes. Steels self for reviews* Thanks to all my readers. Don't shoot me! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

All the weight on his shoulders. All the years of doubt. All the guilt at his failings. All the feelings for Mary.

And John broke.

John didn't break with dramatics or fanfare or fits of anger. He didn't break like a man who'd been to the edge of Hell and back for nearly 22 years. Like someone who'd lost everything in one staggering blow. Like someone who'd been carrying such a heavy burden that they snapped.

No.

John Winchester broke softly.

Ellis felt the hitch in his breathing run through her arms and move under the cheek that she had pressed against his bare back. It felt like a boat shifting over a ripple of water.

"John." She pressed a kiss against his spine.

The hitch came again, silently.

She let go of his torso and tugged on his wrist as she sat on the bed. "I feel like I'm watching the three of you on a collision course and I'm powerless to change it."

John followed her tug, moving backwards on his bare feet. He sat heavily next to her. Still silent. She could see his Adam's Apple working in profile as he swallowed. He didn't turn to face her, almost ashamed of his sudden loss of control.

She reached up and brushed back the hair at his temple. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She saw the wetness on his cheek. "It's okay, baby."

He sat silent.

"John, talk to me."

He hitched another breath.

Ellis pulled him down into her embrace. He went willingly, burying his head in her bosom, seeking some timeless solace there. Something as old as man and woman itself. "You're too good to me, Ellie."

"Shut up. No I'm not."

He snorted in amusement.

Ellis supported his head against her with one arm and snaked the other over his back to rub his bicep.

She resisted the urge to press him for an explanation and just held him.

He put his arms around her and squeezed, snuggled closer to her warmth as if he were drowning and she was his life line. He shuddered again.

"Let it go. You don't have to stay strong for me."

She moved her hand over his forehead, left it there a moment, nudging open his chakra. Feeling a few blocks in the energy flow of his body. Ones where he held pain and trauma and injuries. She tried to ease them open a little in her mind's eye.

"I fucked it up." He said finally. "I fucked it all up."

"What up?"

"I just wanted it be over." His voice was muffled against her breast.

Ellis bent over and pressed a kiss into the ruffled dark hair. She didn't understand what he was trying to tell her. But this she could do. She was good at comfort. She could hold him. She could listen. She could try to heal. Try to patch him up like she'd always done. Try to shore up the crumbling pieces.

This is what he'd actually come here for subconsciously, she knew. Not necessarily for news of his sons. For this. For a soft place to fall.

"My boys. Look what I've done to my boys."

She closed her eyes. "You did the best you could."

"Mary would kill me." His voice was thick.

"John, I see two strong, brave, kind men." She countered.

"I just... I wanted to protect them. I've been so hard on them."

There was a pause.

"You have," she agreed.

He clearly hadn't been expecting that answer by the way he stiffened in her arms. "They love you though. Dean probably more than you deserve."

John pulled his head away from her breast and looked at Ellis, vaguely bewildered. His eyes were inquiring, but she could see the beginnings of him wanting to shut down. "You sure know how to make me feel better."

Ellis locked gazes with him. "If you want someone to bullshit you- then you picked the wrong woman."

He snorted. "I sure fucking did."

"That's why you like me," she tried in a teasing tone. She had the awful sense that she'd blown it with her honesty. His defenses were coming back online.

"Ellis," he began, suddenly no nonsense. Her actual name instead of his nickname for her sounded jolting off of his tongue. At some point in their acquaintance, he'd taken to calling her Ellie. And Ellie she had remained. Ellis almost felt like he were distancing himself. "What do you know that I don't?" He pressed.

She blinked. "How to crochet?"

"I'm serious. You said no good could come of this. A couple of years ago with Dean-that vision, what did you see?"

Ellis paused, warring with herself briefly. "Doesn't take a psychic to know something is a bad move. You're terrified. I can sense it rolling off of you. You know this is over your head."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, hunched his shoulders. "Dammit woman, stop fencing with me."

Taco jumped on the bed and wandered over to her. She pet him absently, her hand running over the orange fur. "I saw Sam," she said, staring at the curtains. "I didn't know it was him at the time...but when Dean showed up with him the other night...it was him. I saw Sam."

John waited and Ellis grew a little distant sounding, gaze turned inward. "I saw Sam...in mud?" She closed her eyes a moment, trying to recall the images. "He was on his knees. Dean had him in his arms. He was crying."

"What happened?" John's voice was sharp with concern.

"I don't know."

"Is he okay?"

She shook her head. "I don't. I don't think he is."

"Dammit, how does that help?"

She snapped back to herself. "I don't think it does. That's why I didn't want to tell you."

Taco was purring and walking back and forth across her lap. He brushed up against John's bare back and he elbowed him away.

John stood up, paced to the window, turned around and looked at her. "What else?"

"Jumbles. Dean beating the shit out of that black car of his with a tire iron."

John snorted. "That'd never happen."

He pulled the curtain aside with one finger and furrowed his brow. "Is that black car always there?"

"What?" His non-sequitur snapped her out of her trance and she shrugged. "I don't know John, I don't sit and make notes of everyone that parks on the street."

She glanced in the direction of his gaze, saw the Cadillac. "I think it's been there for a few days."

"What else did you see?" He let the curtains close, turned back around to watch her.

"Just Dean. Alone and scared and in pain. In so much pain." The memory of it took her breath for the space of a second. "I couldn't tell where or what-just dark and scared. Then wings and light..." she broke off "... then Dean again, but he's weary and sad and broken. Doesn't even look like Dean. He looks like..."

"Like what?"

Ellis met his eyes. "He looks like _you_."

"Thanks Ellie. _Jesus Christ_." John ran a hand through his hair. He glared at her, a bit of hurt underlying his anger. "Was this a pity fuck?" He asked after a moment.

" _Excuse me?_ " Ellie's mouth fell open.

"You heard me."

She stood up holding Taco to her chest, every inch of her affronted by the accusation. "YOU are an asshole!"

"I think you've made that clear." He was hunting around for his Henley again. She knew he was looking to make an exit.

Ellis held Taco under one arm, bent down, pulled out the grey shirt from under the dresser and hurled it at him. It hit him in the head and he blinked as it slid off his face and fell to the floor.

Taco wiggled to get down and she dropped him. He landed on his feet with an ungraceful thud and stood blinking at her in an echo of John.

John bent over and picked up the shirt. He pulled it on over his head. "I don't like that car. You have anything else you want to say to me before I go? Ehat an asshole I am. Something useful about my future?"

"I don't get visions of you. I'm too emotionally involved." She brushed back her blonde hair.

"Yeah, what a privilege that is." He quipped, a biting edge to the tone.

John buckled his belt, found his socks. Started to pull on his work boots.

Ellis stood there helplessly. He was gaining steam. She wasn't going to be able to rein him back in.

"I know you don't listen to a damn thing that I say, but don't tell the boys that I was here. Last thing they need to do is get tangled in this hunt with me. Safest place for them is _away._ " He tugged on the laces, jaw taut with anger.

"You were not a Pity Fuck." She choked.

He paused, hand still on the laces and kept his eyes trained on the floor. "That's good to know," he said flatly.

Ellis closed her eyes. "John."

He stilled and looked up at her. Dark lashes and smoldering eyes.

"You're not coming back are you?" she asked.

She looked at his expression and started to cry.

John glanced away and rubbed a hand over his stubble. "Don't do this, Ellie."

He stood up, watching her emotion, his own under a tight rein.

Ellis wiped her eyes with her arm, shook her head. "Don't do it. Let it go, John. Walk away."

"You don't know me at all, do you?" John's smile was reflective. A little sad. He tilted his head to observe her.

"Of course I know you! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I'm going to stop that thing before it destroys more lives!"His speech was impassioned. He leaned into her space to emphasize his point. "I'm going to take it out of the picture before your vision of Sam becomes a reality. It's after my boy, Ellie. _I know it._ "

"You're making a mistake," Ellis said through tears.

He raised dark eyebrows. "Am I? Or do you just want me to stay?"

She set her jaw. "Of course I want you to stay."

Ellis crossed her Arms.

"You have the weirdest way of showing it, woman." He leaned forward and nuzzled her blonde hair, his fight abruptly turned into a little bit of a flirt.

"You never stay." She sounded petulant.

"No?" He brushed his lips over her temple.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her trembling jaw.

"God, Ellie. I generally don't expect this many tears after I make love to a woman." He gave her a mischievous smile. Something that reminded her vaguely of Dean.

"Only a few tears?" She asked, her face blotchy and red.

"Yeah, usually that sums up the crushing disappointment."

She laugh snorted congestedly. "Oh God I need a tissue. I look like shit when I start up."

He looked at her with a trace of fondness that softened his expression. "I think you're adorable," he said, still in her space. Making her acutely aware of his presence. Of the force that was John Winchester.

She touched his jaw with her fingers and ran her thumb along the salt and pepper stubble. "Will you stay?"

He took her hand in his gently. "I can't."

"I'm asking you to stay."

"And I'm telling you I can't. It's too dangerous for all of us. After this thing is over..."

She shook her head. She knew that even John didn't believe that.

"Yes," he assured. "After it's over, after my boys are safe, I'll be back."

She wouldn't meet his gaze.

He bent down a little. "Hey."

"You're not coming back."

He stood up, looking somewhere between stunned and guilty.

Ellis bit her lip and looked him in the eyes. "If _Mary_ had asked you to stay, would you?"

He set his jaw. "That's not fair."

"It's a simple question."

She watched John struggle with himself and then finally answer. "Honestly, yes."

" _I'm_ asking you to stay."

"You aren't Mary."

She felt that like a physical blow. "No. Of course not."

He studied her a moment, looking fully aware that his candidness had hurt her. He cleared his throat, itched his nose, and ran a hand over his stubble." I should go."

He left the room.

Ellis heard him close the front door.

She stood, stone still. A tear coursed down her cheek and she wanted to throw herself onto the bed and cry. This wasn't how she wanted the end to be with John.

She picked up the book that Taco had knocked on the floor. It had fallen open to to page. It said: _And he left the house where such tender friends had not been able to understand each other...only because they understood each other too well._

She bit back back a sob. Her heart breaking... but only because she understood him too well.

 **Thanks to my reviewers... Domino Darkwolf, Mariamo, WastedJamie, MarbleWolf, Fanpire, Alex...**


	12. Chapter 12

John Winchester slammed the door of his black GMC Sierra and closed his eyes. The tiny iron pendant he had hanging on his rear view mirror swung with the reverberation. He didn't know what he was feeling. Some twisted set of emotions that Ellie always brought out of him.

He knew as sure as he knew his own name that Ellie was in there crying over the harsh truth he'd told her.

 _She was not Mary. She did not have the right to ask of him things he would have done for Mary._

He opened his eyes and watched the light from the streetlamp reflect off of the silver protection rune Ellie had given him as a gift years ago. It sat in his glove compartment for years until he'd pulled it out one lonely night and looped it over the rear view. He pulled it down, his face twisted, and tossed it back in the glove compartment. Fucking women.

He thought maybe he loved Ellie in his own fashion. In his own loyal, battered, convoluted way. He supposed he must have or else it wouldn't have hurt so much to walk away...and it did hurt. Every impulse he had wanted to go back in and hold her. Or fight with her. Whichever came to pass.

He thought of her on empty nights sometimes over a glass of whiskey. Of her smile and her laugh and her body close to his own. He thought of her sometimes before he fell asleep, body aching for release. Yes he cared for her with whatever part of his heart that still remained open to such emotions.

But she could not hold a candle to Mary Campbell. That part of his heart and soul was given long ago.

No. He would not give up his search, his mission, his battle to save his boys for Ellis Parnecki.

He thought of her little hands on him and swallowed hard. Ellie's parting gift. Her tenderness to shore up his cracked and weary foundation.

He pulled out of the drive and headed back down the suburban road.

He knew that the black Cadillac pulled out behind him without even having to look.

He wasn't surprised. Not even a little.

He glanced in the rear view mirror, kept his speed steady. Now more than a little concerned that he'd led demons straight onto Ellis's doorstep.

 _'A few days.'_

He hadn't _been_ there a few days. More like a few hours.

So they were lying in wait for him at Ellie's.

How had they known he'd show up?

 _Dammit._ This was precisely why he couldn't see his boys.

He could not lead this shit onto them. Or Ellie.

Ellie. Oh God. Poor Ellie wasn't a hunter. What the hell did she know besides a few healing spells?

 _Fuck._

John saw the long U-haul truck ahead of him pull sideways across the road to act as a blockade.

He looked behind him, saw the Cadillac.

"Here we go."

He caught a glimpse of the driver's black eyes in the dim light as he approached the U-haul, keeping his speed.

The face seemed smug, then curious as John didn't slow.

Instead, he hit the gas, swerved behind the trailer, up onto the curb and over the sidewalk, heedless of taking out a few mailboxes.

Then he was past them and he hit the gas the minute his tires bumped back onto the road.

* * *

Taco jumped into Ellis's lap as she sat on the floor, feeling sick. She'd told John her visions, which strangely made them feel more ominous. As if saying it aloud somehow made them more likely to come true. As if thinking about them night after night, seeing them in her mind's eye again and again didn't matter. It was _voicing_ them that made it real somehow. Maybe acknowledging them gave it weight. -Made it something other than a horrible flight of fancy in her mind. Put it out into the material realm.

She knew how things that she dreamt about could manifest into the physical realm. Like having sex with the battered old hunter she'd fantasized about for years. She'd made love to John- let him inside her out of some pathetic desperation to make him stay or to say goodbye to him, she wasn't sure which. She wasn't sure about anything when it came to John Winchester.

Taco rubbed against her elbow, demanding attention and Ellis absently pet him.

She knew one thing, she damned well WAS going to tell the boys that he was alright. No matter what weird reasoning John had in his mind, it was utter bullshit to let his boys worry about him that way.

 _You're not Mary._

She could still hear his voice in her head. _  
_

What a shitty fucking thing to say to her.

 _You're not my dead wife so you have no value to me? I only loved her and nobody else is going to get in?_

The logical part of her, the part that wasn't stung by the words, knew what he'd meant. _'I don't love you the way I loved her.'_

That came as no surprise, really. None at all. So why did it hurt so much?

She brushed Taco off her lap and wiped her eyes. When she was certain that her voice would not betray her, she picked up the phone to call Dean.

* * *

 **14 hours later:**

Sam leaned his head against the window. Dean's gaze slid over to take him in and his foot went off the gas fractionally. "Sammy, you need somethin' to eat?"

"No." Sam said. He felt drained suddenly. Almost sick.

His hand was shaking as he rolled the window down a fraction, letting in a burst of fresh air.

Dean's foot hovered over the brake. "Dude, you look sick."

Sam endured a small twist in his gut and he felt a jolt of panic surge through him. He couldn't do it again. Could not go through that pain again.

"Dean..." he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mind carefully evaluated the pain, what he could place it as. "Oh god. I think my stomach is starting up again."

"What? How is that possible?"

"I don't know." Sam's tone was desperate, almost panicked.

"Okay," Dean swung the car over to the side of the road and put her in park. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It just..." Sam rode out a cramp. "Dean, I can't do this again."

The fear was plain on his face.

"Okay, give me a minute..." Dean ran through the options in his head. "We're like five... maybe six hours out from Ellis."

Sam's jaw went tight. "We're farther than that."

"Not the way I drive." Dean countered. He appraised Sam. "Hey. Are you going to be more comfortable there or do you want to stretch out in the back?"

Sam looked miserable. "I don't want either."

"Look. You may not have a choice. If it's going to happen its going to happen. Might as well be prepared." Dean paused. "Okay."

He tried to think of what to do.

 _Call Ellis back? See if she had any advice? Head back to her house with an ailing Sam in tow?_

 _Take Sam to a hospital?_

The hospital wouldn't be able to do anything for something supernatural.

 _Call dad?_

Who was he kidding? Dad hadn't cared when he was DYING. He wouldn't give a single fuck about Sam's bellyache.

Sam whimpered a little and Dean nodded to himself. "Sammy, let's get you settled in the back. That way you can sit up or lay down."

Sam nodded tightly and got out of the car.

He looked petrified and Dean felt a stab of sympathy wash through him.

Dean folded his leather jacket at one end of the back seat and motioned Sam in.

Sam sat heavily on the other end.

"Hey Sam. Lay down, okay? Go ahead and use this as a pillow."

Sam didn't feel like arguing. He gingerly rested his head on the makeshift pillow. It smelled like leather and gunpowder and whiskey and Dad and Dean.

He closed his eyes. "Where are we going?"

"Back to Ellis's."

Dean pulled out his cell and gave Ellis a call. There was no answer.

He left a message. "Ellis. Call me back. Something's still not right with Sammy."

Sam pressed his back up against Baby's seat for comfort and curled his legs up. It felt good to have something solid behind him. He took a breath.

"Hang in there Sammy. We're gonna get you help, bud."

"Maybe it won't be as ba-" Sam's statement ended in a strangled cry. "Nevermind." He panted.

"Breathe." His brother coached.

"Shut up Dean." Sam snapped. "I'm not in labor."

Dean smirked. "Hey man, witches spell, for all we know you could be."

"I hate you."

* * *

Dean pulled into Ellis's driveway and cut the engine. "Sam, we're here."

Sam cracked open his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pretty horrible, Dean," he said wearily.

"Like road kill horrible or I mixed the wrong liquor horrible?"

"I'm going to kill my only brother horrible." Sam groused, rubbing at his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

"Oh shit, dude. That must be really bad." Dean teased.

He was about to get out of the car when Ellis's orange cat leapt onto the hood of the Impala with a thump. It was a big thump for a cat who couldn't have weighed more than 12 pounds. Although when it had spent the last several nights on Dean's head it felt more like 20.

Sam jolted up with a startled cry. "What was that?"

Dean sat with his hands on the steering wheel. "It's Ellis's stupid cat." He said.

Sam blinked. "Taco?"

"Yeah." Dean hoped the cat's claws were retracted and it didn't scratch the paint job or he was going to have to kill it. Which he had a hunch wouldn't got over too well with Ellis.

The orange tabby placed its paws up against the windshield in desperation and meowed at Dean.

Sam furrowed his brow. "I thought she didn't let him go outside."

"She doesn't," Dean replied. He squinted at the house and grabbed his pistol out of the glove compartment.

The curtains were drawn. Dean glanced around. Acutely aware of his surroundings.

"You...think...something's wrong?" Sam asked. The gnawing pain in his belly was still there. He breathed though his nose in a few short puffs.

"Yeah." Dean said. "Yeah, I do."

"Here." He reached into the glove compartment again and tossed another gun over his shoulder at Sam.

It hit him in the knee before it bounced onto the floor of the back seat. "Ow! Friggin jerk! The safety better be on that thing."

"Sam I wouldn't throw a gun at you _without_ the safety on."

"That's comforting." Sam said, sucking in a breath of air before he bent over to reach for it.

Dean swung the door open and got out. "Stay here. I'm gonna have a look around."

"Be careful." Sam said. "If something is in the house it had to have heard us pull in the driveway."

Dean halted. "Good point."

He abruptly ducked back into baby, closed the door and started her up. The cat jumped down off the car in surprise at the growl of the engine.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

Dean turned around so he could see out of the rear windshield, using the back of the passenger seat to rest his arm on as he looked behind them and swung out onto the road.

"We're leaving?" Sam croaked, feeling panicked and somewhat helpless.

Dean gunned the car down the road a block and then swung her into the driveway of a little red brick bungalow with a "for sale" sign and cut the engine.

"There. Now we can get out of here and sneak up on foot to get a look at what we're walking into." He shot Sam an appraising look. "Or I can, I guess. You wanna stay here?"

"N...not particularly." Sam winced, panting. He put his arm around his waist, pressing in.

"Yeah. You look like you'd be super stealthy right now...I think maybe you should wait here and let me go in."

Dean got out and ducked back in to talk to Sam. He tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. "Just stay here and lock the doors and I'll be back."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You sound like Dad."

Dean shook his head. "That's it Sammy, don't let too long go by without taking a swipe at him."

He closed the car door and ducked into the bushes.

 **Thank you for all my reviews last chapter. Jenmm31, Mariamo (my partner in crime), Domino Darkwolf (my even bigger partner in crime), Fanpire101 (love ya!), shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod, MarbleWolf, and XOXO (whose review made me burst into laughter. Thank you for that). I'm having a crappy week, so I hope you'll leave a review to cheer me on. Thanks guys.**


	13. Chapter 13

Dean jogged through the back yards of the neighboring houses. Treading on a couple of suburbanite flower gardens and jumping the chain link fences a few of them had put up to divide their property from the neighbors. He approached Ellis's house quietly and peered in the window. He didn't see anything at first.

Then he saw Ellis, reading over something in the living room.

She had her back to him, but he could see the curve of her cheek and the small stature and knew immediately that it was her.

She had on a form-fitting lavender t-shirt and some jeans that hugged her ass nicely. Dean appreciated it for a second before he kept scanning.

He moved around to another window and saw her lips moving.

Okay. Someone was with her then?

He didn't see anyone.

Perhaps she was reading out loud.

He circled the perimeter of the house, glancing in the windows like a Peeping Tom. He wished he could see the upstairs, but Ellis's posture didn't betray any duress.

Why the fuck hadn't she answered the phone calls he'd put in earlier?

Dean felt something grab his leg and he reflexively swung around, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him as he kicked it off.

Ellis's stupid fucking cat went flying off of his calf and into the bushes, ripping a jagged tear in the bottom of Dean's jeans as he was thrown. Dean swore under his breath.

 _"Taco, you dumb fuck!"_ He hissed.

The cat glared at him.

Dean circled the house again, glancing in windows, checking for anything amiss. Nothing seemed out of place.

He mounted the porch steps and knocked on the door, tucking his Dad's ivory handled .45 into his waistband and easing his jacket over it.

He rang the door bell.

Ellis opened the door, looked surprised to see Dean. "Dean! Hi honey. What are you doing back?"

He smiled, bracing himself for her customary hug.

It didn't come, instead she was looking at him appraisingly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Ummm... your cat is wandering around outside."

She shrugged. "He does that."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He does? I seem to remember you always bitchin' at us to keep him in."

She looked outside, saw the orange face staring at her from the bushes. "Well I'm sick of his shit so he's staying out. Do you want tea, honey?"

"Ummm." Dean shrugged. "No. Don't have time for that. It's Sammy, Ellis. That hex seems to be coming back."

She looked genuinely surprised again. "Really? Well that's interesting. Hon, come on in."

Dean stepped in through the door and scanned the place. Her coffee table looked askew.

He looked back to her and pulled his pistol.

Ellis raised her hands. "Dean?! What are you doing?" She looked on the verge of tears. "What's going on?"

He released the safety. "You aren't Ellis."

"What?" Her voice broke on a protest. "Oh my god! Yes I am! What are you doing?"

Dean's eyes were still narrowed suspiciously, his pistol trained on her. "Tell me something only Ellis would know."

"I didn't go to my prom because the asshole that asked me out stood me up. So I sat home and cried and binge ate ice cream."

He hesitated. Okay that sounded like her.

"I don't know if that's true or not." He replied, not breaking his intensity. "What's something you've only told me?"

She bit her lip, somewhere between shy and seductive. "I can tell you about us making out on that couch and how good it felt to have your mouth on my chest."

The unwavering certainty in Dean's eyes flickered but he kept the gun on her.

She stepped a little closer, putting a little sway into her hip. "We could maybe finish the job."

He let her get close enough to touch his arm.

He backed off of her touch, even though part of his attention wandered to the v of her t-shirt and the swell of her breasts.

"You're not Ellis." He growled. "Who are you?"

Her head whipped around in an almost predatory gesture and she looked at him with a gaze that was clearly NOT Ellis. "You wanna shoot me and find out, Winchester?"

"Sounds good."

He shot, purposefully missing and grazing her bicep.

She hissed and grabbed her arm.

"Two seconds: who are you and where is Ellis?"

"Ellis is right here sweetie. And she's oh so concerned about you and Sammy. And even your sad dead beat Daddy."

Dean eyes flared at the mention of his father. "If you hurt him I'll kill you, bitch."

"One more time, who are you?"

Ellis blinked and her eyes flicked into a solid onyx. She smiled. "Shoot me now, Dean. Kill this pretty little meat suit I have hostage."

Dean backed a step off. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...omnis sanc..t..omy?_ " he stumbled about six words in. Why hadn't he memorized the fucking exorcism yet?

She read the uncertainty and smirked.

She blinked and her eyes flicked back into Ellis's cornflower blue. "Should've paid attention in class, baby."

She raised a hand and Dean flew back against the wall, pinned.

"Oh poor _baby."_

He struggled a moment.

She approached him seductively, her hand still held out to pin him. "There's so much in here Ellis never told you. Did she ever tell you her vision, Dean?"

"She told me enough." He snapped, defiant.

"No, I don't think she has. Oh sure, some of the visions about you. But Sam..."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Oh yesss. She kept those for herself. Sammy broken in your arms. You'll watch him die and there's nothing you can do. Nothing, baby."

Dean's face twisted.

"Oh. Poor dear. That hurts doesn't it? And here she's kept that from you all these years. Secretive little bitch."

"And..." she stepped closer still and Dean's jaw tightened in dislike. "She plowed your Daddy too."

His eyes shot open.

"I can still smell him on her." she continued.

Ellis pressed up against Dean, turning her neck, tilting it back a little so that Dean could see the elegant curve of her throat. "His saliva has dried on this skin."

She moved in toward him, almost pressing her neck to him and Dean's mouth tightened.

She turned back to watch Dean's expression. It was definite revulsion.

"What's wrong Dean? Are you denying your Daddy a good lay?"

"Not particularly." his voice was low and gravelly. "Just don't want to hear about it in detail."

"She hasn't wanted to wash him off yet because she knows he's going to die."

The revulsion turned abruptly into panic. "What did you do to him? You fucking bitch!"

He tried to struggle and found that he could not move an inch.

"Be careful, sweetie, you'll hurt yourself. You've got lots of hurt coming up, baby."

She touched his stomach, pulled his shirt up and ran her hands over it. He tensed under her touch, his heart pounding. Her fingers traced the indentations of his abdominal muscles. "So handsome... She's seen so much pain for you. Oh so much. It almost staggers her really. Did you know she got a prescription for tranquilizers so she can deal with seeing your future?"

Dean looked skeptical.

"Oh it's true. We just have to go look in her kitchen cupboard at those amber pill bottles. You'll find them. They help with the panic attacks when she thinks about what's in store for you."

She scratched her nails along his stomach. "She so wanted to get into your pants. Used to dream about it night after night. Was always interspersed with your brother dying though. Such a kill joy. But she always wanted you." The demon paused a second. "She thought a little about you when your Daddy was inside her."

Dean wrinkled his nose, swallowed convulsively.

"Oh poor baby. So easy to break with words."

* * *

Sam had started to breathe irregularly. The metaphorical knife in his gut seemed to twist again and he yelled. "God!"

There was a yowl and the cat thumped against the back window, sliding down the glass with its little pink paws.

Sam startled and twisted to look around. "Taco. Come on, man. Stop doing that."

Taco walked back and forth across the trunk.

"Dean's gonna kill you."

The cat jumped up onto the hood and out of Sam's vision and then came sliding back down the window at a sit, dragging his furry ass over the glass.

Sam huffed in amusement. "Do that when he's here. He'd love that."

His stomach cramped again and Sam's face went red.

Taco was incessant.

He finally swung the door open. "What the hell do you want?"

The cat jumped off the trunk and landed at his feet. Sam stood up and closed the door.

Taco started to walk away down the path Dean had taken. "Great. Something fucking happened, didn't it?"

Sam doubled over, grimacing again. He stood back up.

"I can't, man."

Taco bounced back to him and landed on the trunk.

"Alright." Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright."

He shakily opened the trunk, which suddenly seemed so heavy, and the cat leapt off. Then it jumped back up and INTO the trunk in the blink of an eye.

"Hey," Sam tried to knock it off with a push from his hand and the cat actually batted at him with a hiss. The tiny claws were retracted but the blow was hard enough for him to feel it. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Okay fine. Be an asshole. I'll lock you in here. I don't have time to argue."

Taco walked across the arsenal and stopped at the bottle of holy water.

Sam was grabbing a silver knife and paused. He grimaced again in pain then spoke. "Holy water?"

He picked it up and looked at it, then popped the top and splashed Taco with it.

The cat jumped and glared at him with a look that would shatter glaciers.

Sam shrugged "Okay. You're not a demon. Just checking."

The cat shook the holy water off his side and licked his fur in distaste, then leapt back down onto the ground in one fluid motion.

"I'm sorry." Sam said again. "You're just...you're a pretty weird cat, Taco."

He shoved the quart of holy water into his jacket and closed the trunk.

* * *

 **13 Hours before:**

John cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the demon he had tied and sitting on a chair he'd found in the basement of the empty brick house. "Would you like to say that to me again?"

The demon's narrowed its black eyes. John wondered if the girl it had possessed was still alive. She had been young and pretty with wavy black hair and lovely blue eyes, now black as they glared at him. Her face twisted into a hateful rictus. "I said fuck you."

John shook his head and threw holy water at her. "Wrong answer."

She hissed and spat as the water curled up into an acidic vapor.

"I'm sick of fencing with you. Now one more time. What are you here for? How many of you are there?" John was losing patience.

He'd lured this demon after him and trapped her for questioning. He knew from her and his experience with the two drivers earlier that there were at least three demons here.

He felt a little badly that the owners trying to sell this brick two-story were going to discover a broken window and a spray painted devil's trap in their living room. Probably wasn't going to be a great selling point.

He hoped that there was no showing scheduled for today but figured that would probably be his luck.

"Why should I tell you? You'll just exorcise me after you've gotten what you wanted."

"You're right." John said. "I am."

She huffed. "Then why, John?"

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder with a head movement. "What's in it for me?"

She shifted and hooked her ankles around the chair legs. She had a smug and sexually predatory look as she flicked her gaze up his body.

John walked to the edge of the trap, lowered his own voice and returned the look. "Honey, I'll fill that tub over there..." he gestured to the half open bathroom, "and we can take a nice bath together in holy water."

He saw a bit of uncertainty light her eyes.

"Won't hurt that girl you're wearing but it will sure hurt you. And then if I want to be really sexy, I have three pounds of rock salt in the back of my truck. I'm sure it would feel wonderful to pour on your naked body after."

She glared at him. "You know how to get a girl all hot and steamy."

"Smokin'" he replied with a half grin.

"Love em and leave em, huh, John? Poor Ellis Parnecki. That your gift to her? Your shitty one night lay?"

John's jaw tightened. "Just answer the question."

"I'm sorry, what was the question again?"

John narrowed his eyes.

She smirked. "Some Witches make pacts with demons to get their powers. Wasn't hard to persuade one to hit your boy with a hex."

"Why?"

"Think about it, John. I know you're smart."

John connected the dots. "You knew if you hit Sam somewhere near New York they'd come to Ellie for help."

"Bingo. Give the man a gold star." She blinked at him slowly. "Keep unraveling the thread, John. Follow it back."

"That's how you knew to have the car here to watch for them. But you didn't follow _them_..."

"No."

"You followed me. Because this was a trap for _me._ You knew I'd come check on them. This whole thing has been a ruse to draw me out."

"Mmmhmm. We knew Papa Bear would show up if Baby Bear got hurt. We didn't know exactly where you were but your boys aren't so good at covering their tracks so they were pretty easy to find... and poor Ellis. Well, poor Ellis is just sitting here like a worm on a hook. Better hope the fish don't bite, John."

"How many of you are there?"

She smirked. "Don't you wish you knew?"

John splashed her again with holy water. "I can go all night."

She panted as it sizzled "... that's not what I've heard."

He tossed a little more. She scream laughed through the pain. "Your boys are soon going to be walking right back into this mess."

"They're long gone."

"They're heading back as we speak."

He raised an eyebrow trying to play it cool but feeling a little surge of concern. Trying to keep Ellie safe in this was going to be bad enough. Trying to keep Dean and Sam away from danger was going to be much harder.

"Why would they be coming back? Even if Ellie called them, and told them I'd been here they all think I'm long gone."

He had no doubt that Ellie HAD called them because the woman seldom listened to a damn thing he said and when she was pissed the odds of her listening dropped to roughly zero.

"Sam shouldn't be feeling so well about now."

"Ellie got the hex out."

She smiled. "Well you see John, that's the problem. That would have worked on someone else but not on your Sammy."

John raised an eyebrow.

"Ellis probably told you the hex was hard to pull out?"

He didn't say anything. His face stony.

"Well you know...that type of hex. If it has just the slightest bit to cling to...just the tiniest drop of taint...it melds into that. So hard to draw it out. Don't think her crystal did the trick."

"You're bluffing."

She grinned. "Am I? Am I...or do you know about Sam what _we_ know about Sam? He's so special. One of those special children."

"You know what? Fuck this... _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis con...potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!_ " Thick black smoke began to trail out of her nose.

She cried out in protest, her meat suit arching in pain. She screamed and lurched sideways tipping the chair over. She fell into her side kicking futilely, the chair scraping across the floor with her movements.

Nonplussed, John kept chanting. " _Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis...legio diabolica, adiuramus te!"_

She writhed again and the chair leg scraped loudly against the wood and the slightest scratch formed in the red spray paint. John realized it almost immediately and tried to speed up the exorcism but the smoke stopped trailing upward and instead shifted sideways with a loud roaring noise. It trailed out of the broken window like a gyrating black snake.

John swore.

The girl began to cry.

She was alive but hurt. He was on his knees next to her within the space of a second, untying her bonds.

"Where am I? What happened?" She started to shiver.

"Okay, sweetheart." He reassured softly, completely shifting his demeanor.. "It's okay."

He pulled her up into his lap, brushing her dark mane of hair out of her face and checking her vitals. She grabbed onto his jacket, crying and weak. "We're gonna get you to a doctor and you're going to be fine, honey. It's okay."

He lifted her up with a groan and her head shifted into the crook of his arm.

"It hurts."

She was young enough to be his daughter. Possibly younger than Sammy.

"I know sweetheart," he shouldered open the door, eager to leave now that the demon had smoked out and could tell the others where they were. "I'm gonna get you help."

There was no way around it. John had to leave Ellie alone to go get this girl help.

* * *

 **.12 Hours Before.**

Ellis started crying again for no reason, feeling like a moron. She hadn't slept a wink. She'd spent the better part of the night crying before her call to Dean. And then after she'd called him off and on. She would be fine and then she'd start up again.

Sleeping with John had been such a mistake. It had awakened some latent depth of feeling and transformed her feelings of friendship into something deeper for her. She should've known. She should've kept her heart closed- if not her legs. She hated herself and her openness. Her penchant for leading with her heart instead of her head. This was where it got her.

Ellis walked downstairs and put some water on to boil. The cat leapt onto the counter beside her, meowing.

"Taco, get off," she said, her heart not in it. Of course he ignored her and circled around the stove, threatening to catch his tail on fire.

She grabbed him and unceremoniously dumped him back onto the kitchen floor. "Stop."

He began to yowl and she looked down at him. "Seriously, Taco, what is your problem?"

She glanced at his chipped porcelain food bowl. An old piece of China she'd inherited from her mother at some point. She took care of it with the care she usually gave delicate things- which is to say little to none- and it became Taco's dish when she'd cracked it in one too many places. The bowl was filled.

"You have food." She told him.

He yowled again.

"Taco. I'm not in the mood. You aren't going outside. I've had enough of stupid fucking men getting themselves killed. I don't need to add your furry ass to the list."

She looked out at the morning which promised to be somewhat pleasant. Thought how she should go outside, being that she had spent the better part of a week inside tending to sick Sam and exhausted Dean and then played psychiatrist and she supposed fucking _concubine_ to broken John.

She wasn't really sure that she'd even checked the mail in the past week.

She slipped on her sneakers and opened the door. Taco bolted out between her legs.

"Taco!" She began to dash after him when she spotted the line of black smoke whipping it's way toward them.

She tried to back into the house and close the door but it was upon her before she had the chance.

 **tbc... Thanks to my reviewers-LilQueen101, Mariamo, Domino Darkwolf, iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife, seitanspawn, Wasted Jamie, Marble Wolf, Fanpire, shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod. You guys ALL rock. I'm posting this right on the heels of Horse Sense but I'm not feeling great so I'm laid up today with nothing better to do than play with fanfiction. Drop me a line. And check out Horse Sense if you want something a little less dark.**


	14. Chapter 14

Dean tried to get his breathing under control. "What do you want?"

"What _don't_ I want?"

It was odd to see Ellis look menacing. But he was genuinely a bit fearful of her now as she touched his bicep.

"Would you like to finish what you started, Dean? She wants you. She's always wanted you."

Dean lifted his upper lip into something between a grimace and a snarl. "Yeah. Tell me about how she just had sex with my Dad and remind me that you're in control of her. That totally makes me want to go there..."

Her grip tightened on him enough to hurt. "Which bone should I break first, Dean?"

She released him and he dropped down from the wall onto his knees. He tried to get up and caught Ellis's well aimed kick across the face. It sent him sprawling. She was on him in a second, hand closed on his windpipe.

He reached up to pry her hand loose and she let go of his throat, grabbed his wrist and twisted it backwards into a wrist lock. He grimaced and sweat broke out on his forehead. She slowly bent it back, farther, farther, past his range of motion and he cried out, his body arching beneath her with a spasm.

"Ellis!" He pleaded. "Honey, if you're in there...don't let her hurt me. Fight!"

Ellis's grip actually flagged for a second and then strengthened again. Her eyes went hard.

"She's in here all right. Yelling away. She likes you Dean, loves you even. Hates to feel me do this." She twisted his arm farther and he yelled again. He gathered every bit of will he had and rolled her sideways.

She lost her grip and he skittered out of her hold, pushing her hard. She flew back and hit her head against the wall with an audible thump. Dean scrabbled up and grabbed his gun.

"Not one more step."

Ellis was on one knee, half-crouching. She looked up, her long blonde hair askew, a predatory smile that sent a chill down his spine in place. "You gonna shoot poor Ellis, Dean? After all she's done for you? I have news for you. You can shoot this meatsuit and it's not going to do much to me. Just to her. Poor girl has had a rough week. All you Winchesters on her doorstep taking advantage of her kindness. Leaving her with nothing. She cried all night over you. Your father used her."

"Shut up!" Dean snapped, his finger still on the trigger.

"I'm going to carve you up. I'm going to make you scream for mercy. I'm going to hurt you until you don't know who you are anymore."

* * *

Sam limped his way through the neighboring yards. He stopped every few feet, hand to his stomach. Once the pain hit so hard it dropped him. His legs folded and he went down with a strangled cry. His lower back hurt, his stomach, his groin, even the center of his chest.

He panted another minute and then dragged himself up and limped another few feet. Getting over the chain link fence was impossible. Sam moved to the the sidewalk, glanced around to see if anyone was watching him and started walking again. He disappeared down someone's drive and hiked across their yard again. He saw the bushes that demarcated Ellis's property and quietly pushed his way through them.

Pain dropped him again and he barely contained a scream. He was shaking. His legs felt like rubber. The small hike had exhausted his energy reserves and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on her grassy lawn and cry.

It was only his stubborn streak that kept him going. The part of him that fought to maintain a 4.0 average through his turbulent childhood. The part that made him stand his ground against his father and leave for Stanford. The part that was here for Dean now.

He staggered back up, feeling something damp run down his leg that he was entirely unsure was sweat or blood or possibly even urine. He ignored the tickle.

Sam glanced in the window and saw nothing at first. But then movement caught his eye. In the living room, he saw Dean's broad shoulders. His back was to him. He had his gun drawn and a wary stance.

Ellis was facing him down. She looked toward his direction and Sam ducked. Something was wrong. Ellis wasn't Ellis if Dean had a weapon drawn on her.

He fingered the bottle of holy water. "Thanks, Taco."

Ellis advanced on Dean again. He hesitated. He could NOT put a bullet through Ellis.

"Fight her, Ellis." He said, retreating a step.

The demon did not waver. She raised her hand and Dean's arm snapped sideways so hard the gun flew out of his grip. She reached out too quickly for him to do more than attempt a half-assed block and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down onto his knees, tilting his head up to her. His whole body had gone rigid. His jaw set, his mouth taut. He was going to fight her until his last breath. The thought excited her.

"Maybe I'll possess you instead, Dean. Make you do some terrible things to Ellis here."

Dean's eyes went wide with unabashed fear.

And suddenly Ellis screamed as a cloud of steam rolled off her back. She let go of Dean and dropped sideways.

Sam was standing behind her. Looking the worse for wear and barely on his feet, clutching a container of holy water.

He was chanting before her yelling stopped. "Dominus spiritus, dominus sanctus..." she sprang to her feet to dive at him and Sam splashed more in her face, continuing the chant. "...spiritus immundum."

She staggered back and Dean grabbed her from behind in a crushing grip. "Keep it up, Sammy."

The black smoke started to curl up out of Ellis's mouth. Her body writhed and bucked under the assault of the exorcism and the Holy water that Sam splashed on her again.

Her hair was in Dean's nose... smelling of sulfur and her shampoo.

The smoke rose higher, ripping out of Ellis as Sam's chant continued. He paused a moment, broke off with a cry as a pain twisted through his gut and he buckled.

The smoke began to change direction, skating toward Dean.

"Sammy! Keep going."

Sam panted the next few words. _"...omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica! Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!"_

The smoke started to rise up again. Dean felt Ellis's body twist in his grip and suddenly lurch as the demon broke free and disappeared.

Ellis's weight crumpled on top of him and he went down with her.

Sam collapsed onto the floor with a cry. The three of them lay there like marionettes with severed strings.

* * *

Dean was the first to pull himself up. Ellis was crying and holding her head where she'd hit the wall. He could see the blood soaking the back of her blonde hair from where he was. Her arm was also bleeding where he'd grazed her with the bullet earlier.

He scrambled over to her. "Ellis. Sweetheart."

He put his hands on her and she cried and flinched away, panicked at the touch.

He gripped her firmly and pulled her into his chest, held her there for a second until she relented and melted into him.

"S'okay sweetheart." His voice was low and soothing. He brushed her hair back from her eyes and gently looked at her, cupping her delicate face in his hands. "You okay?"

She shook her head, still crying.

"Okay." He felt around her scalp until he found the cut and parted her hair. "Hold still, let me see." He said his voice honey-toned and calming.

Some part of his mind was aware of Sam curled up moaning to the side of them.

Dean focused on the task at hand.

"Hey," he said. "Doesn't look too bad, sweetheart. It's just bleeding a lot because head wounds are melodramatic like that."

He cast around for something and grabbed an old shirt lying on the floor near the couch. He ripped it in half and tied part of it around her arm, then pressed the rest to her head.

She winced.

"Okay. Honey, hold this here." He pressed her hand to it. "Keep pressure, it will stop in a few minutes."

She kept sobbing and he took her arms and locked gazes with her.

Ellis's eyes seemed even bluer when they were bloodshot from tears.

"Ellis. I need you to calm down, okay? I know demons aren't your bag but I gotta check Sammy. This ain't over yet so get yourself together."

She tried to stifle the next sob. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "'At's my girl."

"Sammy," he crawled over to Sam. "Hey Sam."

Sam's hair was a damp sweaty wreck, completely in his eyes. His breath came in hissing gasps.

"You okay, man?"

"F...fine." he ground out between clenched teeth and another cry. "I'm not sure she's acting alone."

"Yeah man. I don't know."

"Lay some salt lines," Sam ground out. "Draw s..some traps. I'd help but..." he started panting.

Dean clapped him on his shoulder. "Just hang in there, Sammy. And thanks for saving my ass."

"D...don't mention it. Agh!" Sam twisted up again.

"Ellis where's the salt. Do you have any big containers?"

She nodded. "In the kitchen. The cupboard with the spices."

"Okay." Dean pulled himself to his feet and jogged through his house to retrieve the salt. There was an old canister of Morton and salt shaker full of sea salt. He started with the cardboard Morton's container, praying he'd have enough.

He cursed himself that Baby was so far away.

He wasn't sure what Ellis would have around to paint devil's traps with.

Dean started to lay the salt down on the window sills. Of course Ellis would have to have a fucking house with a million windows and doors.

He did it efficiently, methodically, like he was trained to. He wandered back into the living room to find Ellis had abandoned her t-shirt rag to be near Sam.

He was on his hands and knees panting. She was rubbing his back, talking to him softly.

 _Lay down down a line, check, move to the window, check, hit the doorway, check._ Just like he was trained to do. Ignoring Sam's cries of pain was a little harder.

"Ellis what do you have to draw devil's traps with?"

She looked up, one hand pressed against Sam's torso. "I don't know."

Sam whimpered and arched his back from his position on all fours. "Ummm." She pressed a kiss against the side of his head. "Ride it out, baby." Then she raised her voice. "I don't know, Dean."

"Paint? Chalk?" Dean asked hopefully.

She shrugged. "Permanent Marker?"

"Sold. Where is it?"

"Maybe in the junk drawer in the kitchen."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"I don't know, Dean! You know I'm not organized. I wasn't preparing for a demon attack!"

"Okay, fine." He grumbled.

Sam started to retch and she turned her attention back to him. "Okay. Sweetheart. I know."

"What the hell is wrong with him now?" Dean was starting to feel feel a bit overwhelmed.

"Nothing. Take care of the traps. I've got Sam."

"Don't tell me nothing! He's trying to up chuck on your throw rug."

"It's a pain response, Dean. I've got him. Hurry up." Ellis said sharply.

Dean nodded and ran to the kitchen to sort through Ellis's junk drawer. He found paper clips and pencils, spare change, old gum, random keys, receipts, fucking ancient expired credit cards. And finally, when he pulled the drawer open and threw the contents on the counter top, a silver marker rolled off the formica and fell onto Dean's boot.

He grabbed it and scribbled a trap on the floor near the door.

"Dean!" The cry peeled through the air so loudly, it set Dean back on his heels. He dashed into the living room.

"Sam! What's wrong?"

Sam was lying on his side, impotently kicking at the ground. The cords on his neck stood out.

Ellis was guiding his head away from the watery saliva he'd thrown up on the floor. "Shhhhh." She whispered, her hand checking his pulse. "I'm so sorry, baby."

Dean saw she had his brother and kept up his careful warding, armed with salt and markers.

"Ellis, I'm so sorry, you're gonna have to refinish the floors."

"It's fine." She said, attention still on Sam.

There was a sound outside and they both looked up in time to see a swirling loop of black smoke heading toward them. It hit the windows with a thud loud enough to rattle the rolled glass and circled around the house looking for an entrance.

"Oh God, Dean." Ellis wasn't even trying to hide her terror.

"Don't worry," Dean said. "I got it. I warded it as much as I could. Even if they got in upstairs," which he knew there was every possibility of, as he hadn't had much time to salt the sills, "there's a salt line on the steps."

There was far too many times where their lives depended on a kitchen staple.

 **Thank you for all the awesome reviews last chapter! You guys rock. For anyone who is following both stories-I finished Horse Sense, so pop on over and read it if you missed it. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

Ellis patted Sam's back again as he gagged.

"M sorry." He whispered. "Your floor."

"Sweetie, there's fucking silver marker scribbled everywhere, holes in the drywall and blood everywhere. Add puke to the list, it's fine."

Sam snorted a laugh cut off by a whimper.

Ellis felt her gut twist in sympathy. _Poor baby._ "You're doing good, Sam." She ran her hand in a gentle circle over his shoulder blades. "We're going to get this out of you."

He laid his cheek miserably against the cool hardwood and squeezed his eyes shut, his lashes dark against the flush of his skin. "Why didn't it work last time?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking. I'm trying to think. But we'll break it, Sam. I promise."

"It's gonna break me..." he whispered, his bangs obscuring his forehead.

"No, its not." She reassured. "I know it feels it but it's not."

Dean sat down next to them. "Hey, Sammy. Still in labor?"

"Shut up, Dean." Sam rasped.

"I'm hoping for a boy."

Ellis shot him a disapproving glare. "Dean, leave him alone."

"I'm only joking." Dean gave Sam an affectionate pat on the leg.

"Wait." She stood up. "Dean, stay with your brother."

"Aww I was gonna leave and go line dancing." Dean said with a cheeky smile.

He turned his attention back to Sam, put his hand in his brother's shaggy brown hair. "Sammy, breathe through it like Dad taught us, dude. We're gonna get you out of this I promise." He pulled his hand back and watched the dark strands slide through his pale fingers. "Just focus on me, buddy. Feel my hand? Just focus on that."

Ellis walked to the kitchen, her hand in her mussed blonde hair. She rifled through a few mason jars on the counter, stuffed with dried herbs and pawed through her loose tea. She tried to remember exactly what she had given Sam that had helped several days ago. _Chamomile, rose hips, cinnamon._

She grabbed a large pot and filled it with water to boil.

The tea had only helped for about 20 minutes. But if she made a giant pot of it maybe they could keep Sam drinking continuously enough to give him a break while she thought of what to do next.

Her fucking hands were shaking, rattling the jars as she moved them.

She could still feel the demon in her head, the feeling of absolute violation as it sifted through her thoughts and feelings and controlled her actions.

The feeling of Dean's wrist bending under her hand.

The threats she told him through her own mouth.

 _Oh god._ And the things it had told him about John...about her desires. About her visions. It had even embellished a bit. But most of it had a nugget of truth. How was she going to look Dean Winchester in the eye after this?

Where was John. Was he okay? Had he made it out?

 _Poor Sam._ She could hear a whimper from the other room and Dean talking lowly.

She stood in the kitchen with her thoughts on her own problems for a minute and began to steep the tea.

* * *

Sam was back on his hands and knees looking pale, Dean knelt next to him and had him by the waist. "I gotcha, Sammy."

"Dean, sit him down." Ellis said. "I want to get some tea down him."

Dean looked up, that pendant he wore swung from it's leather thong. "He might throw it up."

"Then we'll put more down him."

Dean muscled Sam into a sitting position, finally settling Sam back on his ass, leaning against his brother's broad chest. "Easy, big guy."

Ellis brought the cup to Sam's lips. "Take a sip."

His jaw was trembling, he shook his head weakly.

"Sam, sweetheart." She kept her tone soft.

"I think I'll throw it up." His jaw was trembling.

She pressed it to his lips again.

He took a few sips, sweating and weak. His boyish face awash in pain.

"Good boy," she tipped some more down his throat, forcing a few long swallows. His Adam's apple bobbed beneath his skin with the action.

Dean held him steady.

And suddenly Sam was struggling to get away. He knocked the teacup on the floor with his flailing and tried to wrench himself out of Dean's arms. His eyes were wide with panic. "Dean, I'm gonna hurl... let me go!"

"Hold him," Ellis instructed.

She put one hand on a pressure point on Sam's forehead, the other against the back of his neck. "Deep breaths through your nose, Sam."

He tried to resist Dean again but his brother tightened his grip. "Sammy, listen to her."

Dean could feel the hitch in Sam's stomach muscles that proceeded a retching fit.

Sam swallowed hard and shakily inhaled some halting breaths.

She kept her hands pressing into the base of his skull. "Calm down. Breathe, Sam. I'm right here. Dean is right there. Dean is holding you. We've got you, honey. We need you to keep the tea down. It's going to help with the pain."

"I'm gonna throw up. Ellis, I don't wann-" he shook with a repressed heave.

"Sam, I don't care if you barf tea on me." She dug into his skull a little harder and used her other hand to press on a point near his wrist.

He swallowed and untensed a little.

"Okay." She nodded. "I'm going to bring out the tea and a mug. I want him drinking it every 20 minutes. If he throws it up, you start over and make him drink more. Let's get the pain down while I figure out what to do."

* * *

More difficult than dodging the demons was dodging Ellie's nosy fucking suburban neighbors who obviously didn't like the looks of scruffy John Winchester wandering around the neighborhood.

After he'd dropped the girl off at the emergency room entrance, John had circled back and done his share of reconnaissance.

The two demons from the night before were not apparent. He did find an abandoned Uhaul parked on the side of the road nearby. Luckily, it was on a dead end street, its tires stuck in a culvert. It didn't look like it'd be going anywhere soon.

It was unlocked. It was an old Uhaul truck. The locks were the manual style that the Impala had on hers.

John wrenched open the door. It squeaked on unoiled hinges, bits of rust fell onto the dirt with the movement. Definitely an old northern vehicle, ill-used and neglected. He found traces of yellow sulfur on the driver's side near the edge of the ridged leather seat. The springs and stuffing were showing. Nothing else seemed amiss.

John went around to the back and slid open the trailer.

It rattled far too loudly for his taste. He hoped the fucking neighbors wouldn't call the cops because God forbid someone open a Uhaul without the Neighborhood Watch staring out the windows.

The smell in the back hit him strongly.

He winced. It took several moments before he could even bring himself to look at the dead body.

The victim had been a burly man. He lay sprawled on his side. He had his throat slit. Sticky half dried brown blood was everywhere. There was an elaborate scrying bowl filled with blood sitting next to him.

John shook his head and reached up to slide the trailer door shut.

He'd send an anonymous tip to the police later. He wiped down any fingerprints he'd left and considered his options. He was dealing with at least three demons. He started back toward Ellie's house on foot, hunched into his jacket, keeping off the sidewalk to avoid being seen. He saw the cat before it saw him.

It did see him and came jogging across the street, heedless of any traffic, of which there was none, thankfully. John knew Ellie well enough to know there'd be hysteria if her stupid cat got squashed by a passing vehicle. It ran up to him, meowing softly, clearly distressed. He bent down a little and gestured to it. It leapt into his arms and he lifted it up and chucked it under the chin with his forefinger. "Hey, what's got you all riled up?"

He looked at the house. Remembered that Ellie didn't want the cat out. He swore and set Taco down again, jogged over to a better vantage point and strained to see in the windows. He saw Dean's head and Sam cradled against his chest. His heart constricted. The bitch had been telling the truth.

* * *

"Why the hell are there _demons_ after us?" Dean asked. He was seated on the floor, his long legs stretched out before him, carefully avoiding the liquid Sam had vomited earlier.

He leaned his back against the old couch. He had one arm slung casually across the seat of it and Sam tucked under the other.

Ellis sat on the couch to his side, laying her head against the cushions. Her expression pained. She put a hand to the back of her skull, could feel the matted blood there. "I don't fucking know, Dean. The supernatural doesn't seem too keen on Winchesters."

Sam looked exhausted. His head leaned against his brother's shoulder for support, boyish face pale and tired.

Dean nodded toward him with his chin. "You think of anything to help Sammy?"

"No." She moaned, putting a pillow over her face, wondering if suffocating herself was a good option right now.

"Do you think Dad's okay?" He swallowed.

Ellis tossed the pillow aside. It landed on the arm of the couch, balanced there precariously -and then fell off and landed in the pile of spit up. "Are you fucking kidding me, God?"

"'M sorry." Sam muttered into Dean's shoulder.

Dean tightened his arm around his brother. "Don't worry about it, dude. We've thoroughly trashed the house. What's one more puke pillow to add to the list? Right Ellis?"

"Right," she agreed wearily. "Sam, it's been about twenty minutes."

He groaned into Dean's armpit. "Don't want any more."

"If you don't drink you're going to be in terrible pain again very shortly."

Sam pushed his forehead against his brother miserably.

Dean thumped his back. "Come on Sammy, down the hatch."

Sam pulled himself away and scooted over to the large pot of now cold tea she'd steeped for him. He dipped the mug decorated with kittens in and forced himself to take a few swallows. "This stuff does not improve when it's cold."

"Sam. What did the hex feel like when it was inside you?" Ellis watched him carefully.

He looked up at her through his mop of dark hair. His knuckles on the hand holding the mug were wet from where he'd spilled it with his shaky movements. One more mess to add to the ever growing list.

"Like nothing until it hit and then it hurt a lot."

"What about when it came out?"

Sam gave a shudder. "Hurt. It hurt a lot."

"Elaborate for me. What kind of pain?"

"The crappy kind?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. it felt like it was being pulled out. Like there was an energy that didn't want to come out."

"Did you feel it leave?"

"Yeah... It felt like peeling off ivy from a building. You know how it has all those little hairy roots it hangs on with? I could feel them letting go and sliding into the stone."

"I think it's exactly that. I think those little tendrils latched on to something in you and we peeled off the main vine, but some of those roots lodged in the brick, you know."

Sam looked unhappy. "Yeah."

He shifted and dropped the cup. The contents splattered and the mug rolled irregularly across the floor with a loud hollow sound. "Fuck. I'm so sorry."

Dean was on it before Ellis could move, retrieving the cup. Ellis noted a chip in it. It hurt her a little to see it.

"I'll get some paper towels." He got up and walked into the kitchen.

Sam's eyes were glued to the floor, watching the liquid slowly spread. It ran through something that looked like spilt saffron that was gathered around the legs of the coffee table. The liquid slipped under the blue and taupe area rug.

"Dammit." Ellis stood up and pulled the rug aside.

There was more of the yellow powder. "What is this shit?"She asked, shaking the rug off. So much for the several hundred she'd spent on it. Now the yellow tea was going to look like piss stains around the woven edge.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Sulphur." He replied. "Must be from your demonic possession."

Ellis colored. "Don't remind me. I'm never going to be able to look Dean in the eye again. God."

She dipped her finger and smelled. It smelt like a burnt match and rotten eggs. "Sulphur," she confirmed.

"Dean knows that wasn't you." Sam assured. "He won't hold it against you."

"Some choice things were said, Sam."

"He's not gonna think any less of you."

She snorted. "God, you're adorable."

Dean's boot steps sounded against the hardwood as he returned with several paper towels and knelt down to sop up the mess. "Hey, Sulphur," he said cheerfully. "Careful. You may have a demon around Ellis."

He gave her his boyish wink and she shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor. Something made her stare at the yellow powder. Dean started to wipe it up and she brushed his hand away. "Leave it." She said.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't want this crap around, Ellis."

"I don't but..."she paused. "Something is telling me to leave it."

He shrugged, clearly thinking that she was insane.

She probably was.

"Okay. Your house. Keep the nasty shit."

He looked over to Sam who was practically passed out, ass on the floor, leaning against the couch. "You gonna spill some more for me Sammy or am I done?"

Sam shook his head. "I so wanna grab some and dump it on purpose but I don't have the energy."

Ellis looked at Sam appraisingly again. "Sam... sit Indian style for me for a minute."

Sam knitted his brows together but with a bit of effort, pulled himself up and did as he was told.

Ellis settled in front of him and folded her legs. "Give me your hands, sweetheart."

He offered them out to her and she took them. They dwarfed hers, but his fingers were long and sensitive, aristocratic for such a tall guy. Her grip closed on his open palm. "Good boy. Close you eyes and relax."

"What are we doing?" Sam asked.

"I'm trying something out to see if I can get a feel on what route to take to get the rest of the hex out of you."

Sam closed his eyes and his boyish face went still. Ellis stroked the back of his hand with her thumbs and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes.

Visions of Sam washed through her head.

 _A baby, cradled in Dad's arms. A boy looking lovingly at what could only be a young freckled Dean. A teen fighting with John, full of anger and resentment and a longing to get away. Flashes of books and people and fire. Sad and lonely and tired. Smart and stubborn and loving. Kind and caring and compassionate. And somewhere deep deep down, a taint. A taint on him that somehow wasn't him. Didn't belong. It was something dark and wicked and evil. Didn't belong in a soul as bright as Sam's._

Ellis wasn't certain if it was the remnants of the hex. It _had_ to be and yet didn't feel like it was. As she focused in on it, she felt Sam's body tense and jerk. "Shhhh."

But it was too late, his defenses were pushing against her as if she were an invading presence, closing down, shutting her out- and, boy, was he powerful. She could FEEL untapped power inside him. Raw and primal and tenacious. She broke the connection panting, Dean's hand was on her back steadying her. "What was that?"

"That was Sam," she said.

Sam opened his eyes, sweet and confused and soft. "Huh?" He grimaced.

"Pain coming back?"

He nodded. "Yeah, a little."

"Cold tea for you."

He nodded miserably. "I'm gonna be peeing for a week straight."

Dean looked at her. "Any idea what to do?"

A banging sound came from the upstairs.

Dean tilted his head in that direction. "That had better be Taco."

"Yeah." Sam said. "If Taco weighs about 220."

 **Reviews! Thank you for the last set of reviews. You guys are awesome. If you like what you see here, throw me a line! I have a big weekend ahead of me. Also, if you like this check out Breaking Point co-written with my pal Mariamo. Our pen name is Celine Mariamo. P.S. Taco does not weigh 220.**


	16. Chapter 16

**.Several hours Earlier.**

John kicked the cupboard. It made a reverberating thud that echoed through the empty house.

He'd returned to the Impala parked outside in the driveway. Even though he'd seen the distant figures of his boys and knew they were back in the middle of the maelstrom, the sight of Baby in the driveway stung. It said: _Here they are, John. Protect them if you can._

He was pissed. Frustrated with the game he'd been forced to play with the demons for months now. He'd known- _known_ -that the minute they were able to, the demons would be attempting to drag Sam and Dean into the fray with him.

He had few vulnerabilities.

The boys were one of them.

And Ellie. He hadn't counted on them using Ellie at all. He should have, he supposed. She was the one person he kept consistent contact with, even if it was in a sporadic manner. There were still enough phone calls, texts, and occasional visits with him that it would be easy for them to trace her.

And if the contact alone wasn't enough, the content of their conversations would make it easy for them to ascertain that she meant something to him.

 _She did, dammit._

As much as he'd tried to keep his rule to not get close to anyone, Ellis wiggled under his armor. And now she was going to pay for it. Poor damn woman.

John walked back outside, eyes surreptitiously scanning the environment. He pat the car's sleek black side and opened the driver's side door. The familiar smell hit him with a pang. Memories of him and Mary and later him and his boys, tugging at the corner of his mind. He drew in a breath.

Something grabbed his leg and tugged him backwards so hard that his hands came off the hood and he hit the ground with a _thump_. His chin smacked off the side of the car before he landed.

"Going somewhere, John?"

He whipped around and found another female demon clutching his leg. He kicked and she dragged him sideways.

"No. Bad boy."

"What do you bitches want?" He asked, still struggling. His hands were brush burned from the fall on the driveway. He could hear his jacket being scraped and ruined as she tugged him aside.

"You, of course, John."

"Then kill me and get it over with and leave my boys alone."

"Oh. No. Under orders not to take you out just yet."

He kicked hard and she gasped in surprise which turned into a laugh.

"So much fight." She gave him a sharp jab to the back of the knee and he cried out, momentarily blinded by the pain. She was straddled on top of him the next moment, her hand on his throat.

He struggled, grabbed her wrist and tried to wrench it sideways. She was far too powerful, pinning him down with an invisible force.

He could feel the blood pooling in his head from the lack of air.

"Bitch..." he whispered.

"It's so fun to choke you out." She said, adjusting her grip to pinch his carotid artery instead of his trachea. John's vision started to narrow in the matter of a few seconds.

He scrambled for his pocket, his fingers suddenly weak, twitching, trying to grasp the contents, coming up with nothing but lint under his fingernails.

Suddenly, she released him with a yell, tearing at her head.

It took John a second to register Ellie's orange cat raking at his attacker's face. It only managed to stay on for a second, but that second was enough for John to grab the salt shaker in his hand and fling the salt at her eyes.

She flung her arm up to shield her face and fell backwards as John bucked to dislodge her.

He kicked her off him and dove for the front porch, scrambling and almost catching his boot on the indoor/outdoor green carpet on the floor boards.

He ducked under cover of the porch railings. He could hear her steps running after him, pausing as she made her way up the short flight of stairs, her heeled boots clicking against the wooden steps.

He crouched further into the corner, looking a bit frightened, as she stepped forward and took him in, a bit of distaste crossing her features. "Really, John? Cornering yourself? I thought your combat training would have taught you better than that."

He rose up, put his hand on the railing, ready to leap over the side of the porch. She raised her hand to stop him as she took another step forward and her dark eyes went wide with surprise as she felt her power jolted out of her.

John's pretend fear turned into a self satisfied smirk.

She looked down at the rug.

He walked over to her, stood menacingly close. "Devil's trap under the carpet. You don't think I wouldn't have prepared for you, did you?"

* * *

Dean instinctively drew his Dad's pistol, the ivory grip familiar and solid in his hand.

"That's gonna do a lot of good against a demon." Sam said. "Didn't you salt the upstairs?"

"Was kinda running low on salt and in a hurry Sam," Dean snapped back.

"Well if that's a demon, it's possessing a vessel."

Dean glared at his brother. "Gee, You think?" He shook his head. "I liked you better when you were in labor."

"Shut up, jerk."

The sound came from the upstairs again and Ellis shrank back behind the couch.

Sam struggled to get up.

He was very weak and almost uncoordinated in his movements.

"Sam!" Dean snapped. "Stay down. I don't need you as a liability."

"Don't go after it." Sam said, giving up his struggle and sitting heavily on the floor. "The last thing we need is you possessed. Stay behind the salt."

Dean weighed his brother's words. "I can't just sit here and do nothing. It's like we're trapped inside the fucking house. All our supplies are outside in the impala."

"Dean, if you go up there alone..."

"Fine." Dean snatched up one of the permanent markers from the coffee table and started to scribble on his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Sam wrinkled his brow.

"Drawing an anti-possession sigil."

Sam struggled to get up.

Ellis hovered over him, hands out worriedly. "Honey, maybe you should stay down."

He shook his head, his cheeks flushed again as if he were running a fever.

"I have to use the bathroom."

"Don't trip. The tea is a little sedating and you've drank a lot of it. I know you're a big guy but it's gotta be affecting you by now."

It _was_ affecting him. Sam felt very weak. The combination of the pain constantly lingering at the edge of his consciousness, kept at bay by the tea and the sedating effects of the herbs themselves made his long coltish legs feel rubbery.

The pain had edged off to where he could think but he could feel it waiting. Prowling around inside him waiting to take hold like a hungry cougar. He staggered up and to the bathroom, swung the door closed.

Ellis watched apprehensively, her maternal instincts edging her worry up several notches.

Dean crossed the salt line and her attention moved to him. "Dean!"

He held his hand up to shush her and crept upstairs.

Ellis wanted to tear her hair out. She was tired of men who don't fucking listen.

 _Winchesters._

She was staring after Dean when she heard a cry from the direction of the bathroom. She crept soundlessly to the door, pressing her ear against it. She could hear Sam's erratic breathing from the other side.

"Sam?"

He didn't answer.

"Sam? Honey?" She knocked on the door gently with one knuckle. She waited.

She waited for what seemed like an absurdly long time with no answer.

"I'm coming in." She turned the handle and slowly cracked the door open, cautious to what she may find.

Sam had one of her fluffy yellow guest towels wadded into a ball in his hand and pressed to his face. He was seated on the edge of the tub, curled in on himself, mouth open in a silent cry.

"Oh, _sweetheart._ " She walked all the way in, swinging open the door with an unoiled creak. She placed her hand on his shoulder. His feet scrunched up the fluffy canary colored bath mat as he moved his leg slightly. She didn't mind.

" _Sam._ Oh, honey." Her hand found the back of his sweat soaked hair and caressed his neck. She waited for the pain to pass, soothing him with meaningless noises of comfort, while keeping her ears alert for any sounds from Dean from the upstairs.

"Were you able to pee, honey?"

He nodded, his breathing still halting.

"Oh, Sam. I wish I knew what to do to help you."

Her eyes tracked to the open toilet lid, she leaned over to flush it and caught the sight of pink in the water of the bowl. Her heart skipped a beat, she paused with her hand on the cool handle and looked back at the boy curled with her towel in his lap. "Sam, is this blood in your urine?"

He shrugged without meeting her eyes.

She flushed the toilet, fighting back panic.

She had to find something to help him and soon.

* * *

Dean climbed the staircase, wincing with each creak that echoed off a stay floor board. He kept his pistol drawn even though Sam was correct, the gun wouldn't do anything but slow it down for a second. He got the the top of the staircase and cautiously poked his head around. Nothing seemed amiss. He moved from room to room, methodically, like Dad had taught him. There was nothing there. No smell of sulphur. No weird feelings. A movement caught his eye and he startled, swinging his gun around. He released his finger on the trigger and let the tension drain from his shoulders.

Taco.

"How the fuck did you get up here?"

The cat ran over to Dean and stood up on his leg, pulling with its claws. Dean started to shake it off but stopped and bent down to pick him up when he noticed that the cat had something white on it.

Dean picked the orange tabby up and chucked it under the chin with his forefinger. "How did you get in here?"

Taco was wearing a bandage around his waist. It made him look like a furry burrito.

"What's wrong?" Dean held him out to look for a second before he put him back down and sneezed, wiping his hands on his jeans.

He searched for an open window.

Everything was closed. His salt lines were in place.

He paused. Actually his salt lines were in place BETTER than they had been before.

He did a double take, guessed he did a better job than he had thought and headed back down the stairs.

"I see nothing." He declared.

Ellis and Sam were not in the living room. He whipped his head around frantically. "Sam? Sammy?"

"He's in here." Ellis said from the bath room.

Dean slipped his gun into the back of the waistband of his jeans and raised an eyebrow. "Great. This didn't turn into a shitting curse did it?" He asked lightly, standing in the door way.

Sam was doubled over, sitting on the side of the tub, looking about as bad as Dean had ever seen him, his eyes closed, his face scrunched. Ellis had her hand in his hair.

Deans expression changed to genuine concern. "What's wrong?"

Ellis's brow furrowed as Sam gave a muffled cry that set both their nerves on edge.

Dean was across the bathroom in a flash, crouching before Sam, hands on either side of his little brother's trembling arms. "Sammy?"

"He's so bad, Dean." Ellis looked close to tears again.

Dean's lower lip tremored a little, the concern painted across his face. "What's going on? Is he worse?"

She nodded. "Who was upstairs?" She wiped her nose on her shirt hem.

"Taco."

Ellis paused, dropped the lavender cotton tee to cover her stomach again and blinked at him.

"I thought he was outside." Dean continued.

"Well me too. How'd he get back in? Did you leave the window open?"

Dean patted Sam's arm and stood up, giving her his own version of a bitch face. "Yeah, I left the windows open when I was laying the salt lines. You know to tempt fate."

Ellis flared at him suddenly. "You know what, Dean? I don't like that tone of voice from your father and I sure as hell don't like it from you."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "M sorry." He muttered.

Her fire went out. "I'm sorry. I'm just on edge over Sam."

Dean bent down and gathered Sam under his armpits.

"Come on, Sammy," he grunted, pulling upwards.

Sam hauled up to his feet with a cry, dropping Ellis's towel and tripping over the bath mat. His hands went to Dean's shoulders, gripping the fabric like a life line.

"Okay." Dean soothed, trying to keep the strain out of his voice from supporting Sam's weight and not quite succeeding. "I got you, Sasquatch."

He started to half drag Sam out of the bathroom.

Ellis grabbed hold of the bath mat and tugged it back into its place. _Yellow_. She stared at it for a moment, unsure why the color seemed significant to her suddenly.

"Gah." Sam froze and stiffened on Dean.

"What's wrong? Did your water break?"

Sam frowned and pushed petulantly against his brother at the joke.

Dean kept hauling him forward until they were over the couch, Sam nearly tripping on the area rug she had covering the hardwood by the coffee table. The tread of Sam's shuffling feet caught and he went down with a thud, dragging Dean with him.

Ellis jogged out to the boys. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean groaned, picking himself up.

Sam was on his hands and knees next to him. His sweaty palm had a few pieces of something that looked like pollen on it. He wrinkled his nose and wiped it on his jeans as Dean picked him up again.

Ellis realized it was the sulfur from earlier.

"Let's get you lyin' down on the couch okay?" Dean said coaxingly. "We'll do that and let Ellis take a look and see if you're dilated yet."

"Friggin' jerk." Sam spat weakly.

"I forgot to time the contractions."

Sam gave a snort despite himself as Dean layed him down. "I am so getting you back later."

"Yeah right." Dean said, lifting Sam's long legs onto the couch. "You just keep talking, big guy."

Sam stopped breathing, held his breath again as a spasm shot through him.

"D'n!" He gripped the couch.

Dean went serious suddenly. "Yeah, okay buddy, I'm here."

He patted Sam's shoulder, feeling useless.

Sam's arm reached out blindly and fisted in Dean's shirt. He hauled him close, causing the amulet around his brother's neck to swing forward, then back.

Dean let himself be pulled forward and down until he was leaning over his brother. "What Sam?"

"If I don't make it out of this..."

"Don't say that!" Dean snapped, tearing away. "Don't say that!"

Sam quieted, chastened. "Okay."

Visibly relieved that Sam was off the subject, Dean laid a hand on his brother's back and crouched down, his knee popping as he did so. "Look man, I get that it hurts, but you got me and Ellis with you. God Sam," Dean drew his hand away. "You feel really warm."

He put the back of his hand across his brother's forehead under the fringe of bangs.

He grimaced, turned to Ellis, who was standing a few feet away. "He's hot."

"He's been running a fever." She said.

Dean looked stricken. "Is this thing ...progressing?"

"I think so."

"B...but you said it wouldn't." He looked at her pleadingly, as if he could make her change her mind about her conclusion if he wanted it badly enough.

"That was before I knew what it was, Dean. I thought it was Celtic in origin but now...I don't know. I honestly don't know what to do with him."

Her lore books were in the upstairs shelves.

She felt a sudden pull to go there.

Ellis moved to the staircase.

Dean's head followed her. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," she replied, her willowy form leaning against the banister as she spoke.

"Well that's...helpful."

Sam cried out again.

"I'll be right back. You're SURE there's no demons upstairs?" Ellis asked.

"Not unless there's one in that cat."

"Cat _is_ a demon," she joked.

 **Okay, so I am a total dick to Sam. I hope this eventually gets added to some sort of Sam Whump archive because I seem to be doing my best to hurt the poor boy. MarbleWolf, WastedJamie, Dom Darkwolf,SpnKs15,aymen, Mariamo, Mckydstarlight,iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife,Fanpire101,LilQueen101...Thank you all, you keep me writing.**


	17. Chapter 17

Ellis crept upstairs, still on edge despite Dean's assurances. Taco burred a happy greeting and jumped into her arms. She caught him with an _ooompf._

"I feed you too much, baby."

She crushed him to her, suddenly emotional. "I didn't think I'd see you again, you fat fuck."

She stopped and looked at his bandaged midsection. "What happened? Did you get hurt? Who fixed you up?"

She held him out to look at him and he thrashed melodramatically, undulating like a rabid weasel until she sat on the floor with him in her lap. "Stop, you asshole."

Taco stopped once his feet were on something solid and looked at her with a patronizing air.

She pulled the wrap up, could see some dried blood. So he _had_ been hurt.

"Kitty?"

He buzzed and set his paws up on her. Ellis pet the ruff of fur around his neck and her finger brushed something sticking out of the top of the bandage. She furrowed her brow and pulled at it.

It was a rolled up slip of paper.

She let Taco go and unrolled it.

The cat bounded off her lap and ran around the corner and under the bed.

The paper had a quickly scrawled note: _Demonic origin. Take care of my boys._

She closed her eyes. "John."

Ellis hurtled down the steps without pausing and blurted "Do you have any more holy water?"

"Uh." Dean paused and looked up from his spot crouched next to Sam. "I thought in Baby's trunk, but I can make some more. I just need Dad's journal and some rosary beads...which are also in Baby's trunk."

"Glove compartment," Sam corrected weakly.

"Alright...glove compartment."

"What do you need holy water for?"

"For Sam."

Both the boys' eyes widened.

"M...me?" Sam asked weakly from his reclining position, looking angelic. "I'm not a...demon?"

"No, but I think the hex on you has demonic origins."

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. "Sure feels like it."

The sweat ran in a rivulet down his cheek.

Dean stood up. "I'll go get the stuff."

"You be careful out there!" Ellis called after him.

"Okay mom," he said cockily, walking to the door. She watched his bow legs for a moment, then turned her attention back to Sam.

She crouched next to him. "Hey, sweetheart."

His nostrils flared a little.

"Hurting bad, huh?"

Sam nodded tightly. She watched the muscle in his jaw clench.

She took his hand, squeezed. "I'm gonna get you out of this, Sam. Stay with me, okay?"

He grimaced. "Kay."

"Good boy."

He whimpered, his brow furrowed, looking so so young. She could see the fever in his flushed cheeks. He was losing his battle with the hex little by little.

She looked down at his trembling body. His legs were partly folded up but still hanging over the edge of the confines of the too small couch. The blue denim of his jeans was streaked with yellow from his fall earlier. The sulfur. Yellow like the rug. Yellow.

Ellis let go of Sam's hand and crawled over to the edge of the rug to retrieve the sulfur she'd made Dean leave earlier.

* * *

Dean jumped the neighbor's fences and moved as stealthily as he could down the block, dodging out of sight of anyone passing him by. He recalled how fun this type of cat and mouse was when he and Sam were kids but now, when it was in earnest, it just didn't have quite the same appeal. Although it still made him feel alive in every sense of the word. Focused, sure of himself, in the present moment.

He ducked around back of the empty house and saw Baby parked in the driveway. Her passenger side door was open. His heart skipped a beat, picturing her ransacked. Their stuff stolen. He jogged over-heart racing, palms sweaty- and peeked in. There was nothing. She looked untouched.

He looked around him, wary for an ambush, noticed the trail where the grass had been displaced on the lawn. There was a path where someone moving very quickly had run up the steps to the front porch. The average person would never have noticed, but Dean caught the way the grass was bent differently in the light. -Moved askew and in the wrong direction like the fresh vacuum cleaner marks on a plush carpet. His eyes traced the house, thoroughly curious.

He edged around to the back. The back window had been busted in. His first impression was that it must be the headquarters of the demons after them...but the perfectly drawn devil's trap in the living room caught his eye.

His heart leapt.

 _Another hunter._

It leapt again.

 _Dad?_

Dean opened the door and stepped in stealthily. Eyes peeled for anything amiss.

The place had devil's traps in several spots. He swept the room. Nothing was askew but the dripping faucet in the bathtub. It made a plunk plunk sound as it dripped into the half full basin. Water was splashed everywhere. All over the floor. Over the walls. Boot tracks led out of the bathroom and down the hall. Dean looked into the tub thoroughly puzzled as to why an empty house had a water filled bathtub. A rosary swam at the bottom.

He grinned. "Way to go Dad."

He walked back out and called tentatively, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Dad? Dad!"

He wandered around the empty house and felt his throat knot suddenly. He choked down a swallow. If his father had been here, and he knew he had, he wasn't here now.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and shoved his emotion back down.

The most important thing: take care of Sammy.

He went back to the car to grab some empty water jugs to fill with holy water.

* * *

John swung the U-haul open, nudged the demon ahead of him. She was tied, bound firmly, her entire head and shoulders obscured by an empty burlap sack with a devil's trap painted on it.

John's nose wrinkled at the dead carrion smell, but walked forward anyway, pushing her ahead so that she banged her knees into the side of the truck bed and hissed.

"What are we doing?" she asked, unamused.

"You're going to make a phone call for me." He jumped up lithely into the back and hauled her up by the shirt. She yelled out again as her shins hit the bumper and she landed on her knees. Bound and blind.

She was still somewhat wet and very weak from her holy water bath. "You sure know how to treat a girl, John."

She could hear him laying something on the floor around her.

"Mmm. Romantic bath, nice car ride, now we put a call in to mom and dad. You show me how." He took the hood off and she found herself kneeling inside a ring of salt he'd just dumped on the floor.

She blinked her large dark eyes at him, the desperate housewife she was wearing looking totally out of place with her sneer. "John."

He grabbed the chalice of blood and set it down before her. "How do we make a call?"

She gazed up at him. "You are creative with your torture."

"Learned from the best." He paused. "The Vietcong were very...creative...make the call. Show me how you do it as you go."

* * *

Ellis walked upstairs and stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Dean sat on the edge of the white bathtub and slowly turned the water off. He looked up at her as she approached. "Hey." He said.

"You turn that into holy water yet?" she asked.

Dean drew the rosary out of his pocket and dangled it over the steaming water. "Not yet."

He looked up at her again. "How's Sammy?"

She shook her head.

Dean's face tightened. "This gonna work?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. My instincts say so but I was wrong about the Hex before."

He dropped his gaze to study the rippling water that grew still in the moments after the tap was turned off, only interrupted by the steady drip drip of the leaky faucet.

He looked very lost and alone for a moment.

She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wish we were taking a bath in here instead," she joked.

He nodded but didn't return the flirt. "Yeah...Yeah, there's that."

"I'm sorry what the demon told you."

He paused, crinkled the rosary up into his hand, the beads digging into his palm. "Was it true?"

"What?" She stalled, feeling herself break out into a sweat.

It was a hushed whisper. "Did you see Sammy die in your vision?"

"I think so."

He closed his eyes in pain. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because of this. _This_. It would cause pain and wouldn't change a damn thing."

"That shoulda been my call to make," he said.

"No," she replied, her voice clear and sure. "That's my call, Dean. Not yours. My vision. My call." Ellis forced a false smile.  
Bright side. This isn't how Sam died in my vision."

Dean looked at her, wounded. Not humored at all.

She knelt down on the canary rug before him and placed a hand on his knee. He flinched a little.

"The rest true?" he asked.

She hesitated.

"You sleep with my Dad?"

"Yes."

He shook his head and looked away, jaw tightening.

"What? Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothin'...Coulda told us he was here though before you banged him."

"Baby..."

"'M not your baby," he snapped a little coldy.

Ellis looked up at him in surprise. He jerked his knee away and stood up.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"Sammy and I..." he paused, working up the words in his mind. "We've been looking everywhere for him. _Everywhere,_ Ellis. You _knew_ that. And..." Dean trailed off and shrugged into the dark blue button up jacket he was wearing with the collar popped up. He ducked his head. "Dad. I've just been picturing him on the run in trouble and instead I find out he stops here and...fucks you."

She stood up and faced him. "Just because we had sex doesn't mean he's not in trouble and on the run. Obviously," she swept her arm in an all encompassing gesture, "he's in trouble because he shows up and so do a fucking boatload of demons right after."

"You coulda called us."

"I DID."

"Yeah! After he left!" The voice was so anguished it took Ellis off guard.

"Sweetie." She saw him wince at the term. She didn't give a shit. Ellis reached her hand up to cup Dean's jaw tenderly. She brushed her fingers over his temple. "Your dad's trying to protect you."

"Yeah. Well he's doing it in a shitty way!"

"Isn't that how your father does everything?"

His jaw was trembling a little. "Yeah... Ellis I think he was here. I saw warding in the empty house down the street. I think he's out there."

"I think so too." She kept the detail of the note to herself.

A pained grunt came from the downstairs. It escalated into a cry.

They both winced.

Dean turned away and dropped the rosary into the bathtub, began to chant the Latin consecration. _"Exorcizo te, creatura aquae. In nomine dei patris omnipotentis et in virtute spiritus sancti."_

Ellis pulled something out of the white trimmed medicine cabinet, noticed with dismay how many fingerprints she'd left on the mirror. She moved next to Dean and dumped a few drops of oils into the bath, muttering under her breath.

She leaned down and picked up the bag of salt Dean had hauled in earlier, slowly poured it into the bath and swirled it around with her hand.

She saw Dean looking at her. "What?"

He smirked, dropped his voice. "I wish we were taking the bath in here too."

Sam cried out again and Dean rushed down the stairs to him.

* * *

Sam was curled into himself, sweating and panting. The cat laying on his heaving back, unflappable through the rise and fall of Sam's ribs. Dean picked the cat up and flopped him onto the floor. "Jesus cat. Give the guy a break."

Sam yelled out again and this time it was caught on a sob. "Awww. Sammy." Dean put his hand in his little brother's hair and leaned in close.

"I've...I've never been in this much pain before." Sam muttered.

"I know, buddy. We're working on it. Ellis thinks she's got it figured out."

Sam grabbed Dean's forearm in a crushing grip and Dean rode out the discomfort with him. "Breathe, Sammy."

"C...can't."

"Yes, you can." Dean was firm but gentle. "You always can. You're amazing when you have to be."

A tear broke lose and snaked down Sam's cheek. Wet and glistening in the incandescent light.

Dean pretended not to notice. "I...I've never been as strong as you, Sammy." His lowered his voice fractionally. "I know that. You're gonna outlast me. Outlive me. You remember that."

Ellis's willowy form approached down the stairs and Dean glanced up at her and gave a small nod. He switched gears in her presence, suddenly teasing.

"Come on, Sam." He said lightly. "Take it easy. Women go through this all the time."

Sam was quiet a moment as he rode out another spasm. "F...fucking s...stop with the labor jokes, Dean. It's getting old."

Ellis tilted her head, joining in on the banter. "Every woman goes through it at some point."

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at her in shock. "You have kids?"

"Every woman but me goes through it at some point," she amended.

"I'm not a woman!" Sam protested miserably and then broke off on a sob again. "This isn't labor."

His shoulders shook as he cried silently.

They both softened. "Oh, hey." Dean was back to paternal. "Hang in there, buddy. I don't mean to be a douchebag."

His hand moved between the shoulder blades, affectionate.

Ellis looked to Dean. "I got everything all set up. Candles lit, bath is filled."

Dean smirked even through his stress. "Ellis, why do all your cures for Sam seem like something out of a porno movie?"

She paused, the shock on her face apparent. "What?"

She thought about it and laughed. "Oh God. I'm never going to look at my work seriously again. Thanks for that, Dean."

"No problem."

Ellis shook her head and knelt down next to Sam's feet. She unlaced his boots and tugged them off along with his socks.

Sam blinked lazily through his haze. "Wha?"

Barefoot and pregnant. Dean quipped.

"F...fu.."

"Fuck off. I know." Dean said. "Don't waste your breath."

Ellis quickly rubbed a bit of oil over the soles of his feet and then left the room.

Dean watched her go. "Well, that was random."

Sam's breath came out in a distressed wheeze that brought his brother's attention back to him. "Hey. Easy there, Asthma Boy."

"Dean, don't leave me."

"Sam, I'm not gonna leave you. Why would you even think that, dude?"

"It hurts so much."

"I know. I know buddy."

* * *

Ellis came out of the kitchen with an ornate silver chalice, shining and chased with filigree around the rim. She had a liquid concoction in it that looked like an herbal tea.

"Dean pull him up for me. He's gotta drink this."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Looks awesome," he said sarcastically.

He started to move Sam, ignoring the fevered cry of protest.

She set the chalice on the coffee table and began to sprinkle a yellow powder in it. Dean and Sam both looked at her from their respective positions on the couch.

"Is that...sulfur?" Dean asked.

"Yes. It's what the demon possessing me left behind."

Sam's sweet half-fevered eyes opened a little. "You want me to... d...drink that?"

"It's just a little. The rest of what's in here is the antidote to demonic possession. Salt. Holy water. Protective herbs. And then we add the demonic residue. Mix them together. The sulfur will hopefully draw out the bit of hex left in you and the other stuff should bind it."

She crouched down in front of Sam and handed Dean the chalice. "Here Dean. I want someone who loves Sam more than himself to do this."

"Why?"

"There's all that untapped protective power in you."

"Just give him a few sips." She stood back up and sat on the left side of Sam, readied herself to react.

Dean pressed the chalice to Sam's lips and took a firm hold on the back of his neck. "Kay, Sammy."

He poured it down Sam's throat and sure enough within a swallow, Sam was trying to spit it out and gag. Dean didn't let him move and Ellis tried to drag his hand back from pawing at Dean. "Sweetie. It's okay.

Sam swallowed a second gulp and she nodded to Dean who set it down on the floor.

Sam's gagging turned into a violent retch.

Dean looked at her, distressed. "Do we get him to keep it down?"

She nodded and Dean's hand slammed Sam's jaw closed. "Keep it down, Sammy. Breathe through your nose."

Sam struggled a second, trying to pry Dean's hands off his chin to no avail.

"Swallow it." Dean instructed. "I know it's gross."

Sam swallowed and went limp and pliant in his brother's grip and Dean let him go, catching his weight in his arms. "Okay, Sasquatch. I gotcha."

Sam leaned into him, limp. The light glinted off the ski jump slope of his nose.

Dean pressed his cheek to the crown of his brother's head, exhaled softly onto him, soothing with few words. "It's okay."

Ellis watched them, felt a lump in her throat.

She gave them a moment before she put her hand on Sam's bicep, which felt distinctly over heated. "Are you still with us, sweetheart?"

Sam remained folded against his sibling's chest for a moment and then nodded fractionally.

"Okay." She moved into his line of vision. "We're gonna get you into a bath upstairs, okay?"

His face...oh god...so young. Too young.

He looked confused. "Bath?" The word was a whisper.

"Yes. Upstairs. The one down here doesn't work because I'm too broke to call a plumber."

He blinked and she wasn't certain how much he even registered.

He shivered and leaned into Dean's warmth. "Okay."

Dean extricated himself and Sam whimpered at the loss of contact.

He bent down and steeled himself.

"I'm gonna pick you up, buddy." Dean lifted him with a grunt, widening his stance to give himself some stability. "Sonofabitch! He's heavy."

Ellis looked concerned, clearly worried about the older Winchester straining a muscle or throwing out his back. "Can you lift him all the way up the stairs?"

"He's my brother. I can do what ever I have to," Dean said, carrying Sam curled in his arms up the staircase.

 **Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews last chapter! Seriously, so many of them were really detailed feedback... which is like icing on a cake to me. WastedJamie, Dom Darkwolf, Mariamo, MarbleWolf, SpnKs15,aymen, mckydstarlight,iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife,IdreamofIvan,seitanspawn,Fanpire101...I love you all. I hope I got back to everyone but I've been totally scatterbrained this week, so I apologize if I haven't. I always like to answer my reviews.**


	18. Chapter 18

John Winchester stood behind the demon as she sat on her knees bent over the chalice of blood. "You make the call. You tell them that you've succeeded in the mission and that the boys are dead and I'm captured."

She turned her head to glare at him malevolently. "How long do you think that will work? They aren't stupid. They'll know soon enough."

"I suppose they will." John replied, unperturbed.

"There is literally no reason for me to do this."

"We can do the holy water bath again."

Her eyes narrowed, the eyeliner around them smudged and smeared, giving her dark circles.

"And if I do it you may not give me a holy water bath but you will exorcise me. How welcoming do you think demons will be when they find out that I betrayed them? Do you think you can beat _Hell_ at torture, John?"

"I can try." He waited patiently for her to call. When she didn't he added. "I could not exorcise you."

She snorted. "Do you think I'm a moron? You're gonna let me free to wreck havoc? You're a hunter."

"I never said I'd let you free." He paced the end of the truck, his boots reverberating with a metallic sound off the floor. "I could merely trap you in a Devil's Trap somewhere and leave you. Might get very boring, but it won't be torture like mine or Hell. Take your pick."

She paused, considered. "Do I have your word?"

He nodded calmly.

She looked back to the chalice and began to speak in Latin. "Audi clamorem inferni."

He watched her eyes take on a trance like look. "We have John Winchester... Yes. We have killed the oldest boy. Left the youngest as you have ordained. Yes."

She broke the connection and John kicked over the cup, sending the blood splattering on the floor of the trailer.

She looked up at him, annoyed. "Why did you disconnect the landline?"

"I don't need you making anymore calls." He took the sack with the warding written on it and placed it over her head again.

"Really John?"

"Don't need you running off or summoning your evil friends. Or making a racket and getting someone to come rescue you. So sit your ass down and wait for me. we're going on a trip." He jumped off the truck trailer and pulled the door down with a loud groaning squeal.

* * *

Dean set Sam down on the the bathroom floor. Sam stood weakly, swaying against Dean for balance.

"Take his clothes off and get him in the tub."

Dean looked at her, roughly wrestled Sam out of his shirt, which was difficult because Sam was swaying on his feet, completely unsteady. "Ellis. You and the porn cures."

She rolled her eyes.

Dean hooked Sam's arm over his neck. "Yep. Done. The rest is above my pay grade."

"Oh my god. Fine."

She started on Sam's belt buckle.

"What?" He asked feverishly, looking down at her.

"We're going to get you in that bath, sweetie. I'm just getting your jeans off."

His jeans slid down his narrow hips and pooled onto the floor the minute she'd loosened his belt. Dean held him steady as she coaxed him to step out of them.

Sam was so sick he didn't seem to have a good grasp on where he was... leaning into his brother for support. The only familiar thing in the fray of his life at the moment.

Dean held him patiently.

Ellis grabbed the blue guest towel off of the towel bar and wrapped it around Sam's hips before she reached up and under and tugged down his briefs.

Sam was shivering uncontrollably.

She stood back up. Her heart went out to him.

Dean edged Sam over to the tub. "Let's get this over with. Step in, Sammy."

Sam's arms were wrapped around himself for warmth, his teeth chattering.

"Come on, don't be a pussy." Dean chided.

He pushed his brother forward. Sam reached out and caught himself against the slick tile of the tub surround. He took a step over into the water and stood looking miserable like a puppy about to get a bath.

Dean took his arm. "Come on. I'll help you sit."

Sam blinked, disoriented.

"Come on, Sasquatch." Dean started to lower Sam in. Sam fought for a minute before he splashed in on his ass with a loud thump.

He tried to scrabble out. "It's cold."

Dean forced him down. "Sit your ass down! We are not negotiating this."

Ellis moved in closer. "Sam." She took his face in her hands, tried to catch his panicked gaze, her eyes gentle. "It's going to be over soon. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?"

"What's happening?"

"I know. The fever. You don't even know what's going on do you, sweetheart."

He looked confused and lost and like he might cry again.

"We're going to take care of you..." She traced her thumb lightly over the dimple in his chin. "I know." She leaned in and kissed his sweating forehead. "Trust us."

She felt Dean's eyes on her and looked up, one hand still in Sam's hair. "What?"

"Nothing." His eyes were sad.

Ellis furrowed her brow, went back to trying to talk to Sam. "Am I getting through to you at all?"

Sam bent double with another pang, shirtless she could see the muscles of his back lock up.

She moved her hand to his shoulder. "Okay, sweetheart."

It passed after a moment and he leaned back against the tub tile weakly. She pet the hair again, turned to Dean.

"He should've had that." He jerked his chin to Sam.

"Had what?"

"A mom."

She paused, reached out and squeezed Dean's hand. "So should you."

He looked away, cleared his throat. "Yeah."

When he turned back, he was all business. It reminded her a little of John. "What do we have to do?"

She let his hand go and looked back at poor Sam. "We need to completely douse him in the water. Think you can dunk him?"

"Yeah. He's gonna freaking _love_ that. He's gonna think we're drowning him."

"I need every bit of him wet." She stood up and went to her medicine cabinet. Noticed with dismay how many smudged fingerprints and random spatters of toothpaste she'd left on the mirror. She rubbed at it with her hand, succeeding in making more of a mess.

She opened it and got out a few small amber bottles of essential oil and tipped it into the water. The film of oil skated along the top of the bath in tendrils of scented slick.

Dean cupped Sam's face. "Hey, Sam I'm gonna dunk you under, okay?"

Sam wrinkled his brow. "Wh...why?"

"Think of it as being baptized."

"Baptized?"

"Yeah, you know, you never were so here's your chance."

Ellis reached her hand into the tub and splashed water over Sam's knees, which were folded so he could fit his tall form into the confines of the bathtub. The drenched towel wrapped around his waist had come askew, floating with various air bubbles underneath it. She pulled it off and tossed it into the sink. It landed against the porcelain with a wet thwack.

She looked to Dean. "You ready? I need you to put him under for a few seconds while I recite a few words."

Dean looked at Sam with a measuring gaze and she could see him readying for a fight. "Oh yeah. That should be totally easy."

He rolled up his sleeves and nodded to Ellis before he put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sammy, scooch forward a little for me, buddy."

Sam let himself be pushed forward, his knees bending more.

"Sam," Dean said calmly. "When I count to three, I need you to take a deep breath and hold it."

Sam looked to Dean "Huh?"

"Three." Dean grabbed him and dunked him under. Sam fought, body arching up out of the water, lashing out with blind strikes and finally seizing Dean's blue collar and pulling at him. Dean went off balance and tumbled half into the tub, a knee on Sam's chest, the other leg balancing on the bathmat that kept sliding precariously with every lurch.

"Hurry up!" He snarled through gritted teeth and squinted eyes as he took a huge splash to the face.

Ellis began to chant a variation of the exorcism Dean figured he should learn by heart as soon as they got out of this fucking mess.

"Say it faster!" He sputtered, another deluge of water hitting both him and Ellis. He had a death grip in Sam's hair and was leaning every ounce of strength into his assault. Sam had gotten some leverage with his feet and was beginning to win, but his strength ebbed.

"I'm gonna _drown_ him, Ellis!"

She began to talk faster.

"I'm gonna let him up."

Ellis blurted out the last few lines in a yell and Dean let go.

Sam didn't pop out of the water as expected and Dean felt a surge of panic.

"Sammy!" He reached in and grabbed him, hauled him up. His brother was limp, his neck rolling sideways with the movement of his body. " _Sammy._ Sammy!"

He leaned Sam's prostrate form forward and thumped him on the back with a loud series of damp _thwacks_. Ellis kept Sam's head from falling forward between his knees. Dean lowered his hand a little more to the bottom of his brother's rib cage and gave one more solid smack. Sam vomited a gush of water and his eyes flew open as he drew in air with the panicked expression of a landed fish.

"Atta boy!" Dean wrapped his arms around him in a half embrace, supporting his weight.

Sam grabbed onto the edge of the porcelain tub to steady himself, leaned forward and spewed again, coughing miserably.

His bangs were plastered into his eyes. He shook Dean off. Dean staggered backward, lurched and almost slipped on the soaking wet tile, his boot tread making a squelch as he moved.

"What are you doing?" Sam's eyes were clear for the first time in hours. He brushed his wet bangs out of his eyes and looked to Ellis. "I'm freezing." He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He struggled to stand up, weak kneed. They both instinctively reached to steady him and Sam batted at their hands. Ellis grabbed the second bath towel off the chrome towel bar and handed it to Sam.

He flushed a little, suddenly aware of his nudity and wrapped it around his muscled waist. Ellis leaned over and let the water out. It started to whirlpool around the drain making a sucking noise.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"Really confused."

Dean stood before him, clothes dripping. He raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean this isn't self-explanatory?" he deadpanned.

* * *

John's search for the keys to the U-haul was futile. He finally got annoyed and hot wired it. He could hear the demon in the back starting to cry for help far too loudly and sounding far too much like a human female in distress for comfort. Sure enough, he saw one of the neighbors poke their head out of their door and head his way. John swore, started up the truck and made the tight turn on the dead end much too fast. He hoped the sway of the movement hadn't decimated the salt lines keeping the demon in place, even though he'd backed up some of the warding with a marker. He headed down the street, out of Ellie's lovely little neighborhood and kept driving until he saw a large abandoned field not too many miles away. He turned the truck off the road and rumbled over the uneven ground until they were far out of sight of any passing traffic.

 **Okay, so now I've half-drowned Sam in this chapter! I know it's really hard to believe, but celine loves you, Sammy. Thank you guys for all the reviews! Colbie15, Dom Darkwolf, SpnKs15, mckydstarlight,seitanspawn,WastedJamie,iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife, MarbleWolf, Ayman, ukkiichi, Fanpire101 you guys are awesome. Hope you like wet Sam. LOL.**

 **I'm updating a little early because I am: A. Snowed In in Upstate NY and therefore, bored. (So shoot me a PM if you have any story ideas or requests). B. It's Thanksgiving in the States later this week.**


	19. Chapter 19

John slid the U-haul open. The soccer mom meat-suit gave him a glare from the position on her knees she'd assumed for stability with the erratic driving. "Could you have driven any worse?"

"No." He replied. "Doubtful."

He hopped up, surveyed the condition of the Devil's Trap, fixed the salt lines that looked askew, all business.

"You know," she purred. "You're pretty damned handsome, John Winchester."

He looked at her balefully. "That means a lot coming from a demon, especially one who was wearing a man a few hours ago."

She grinned. "Just because I can switch meat suits doesn't mean I didn't have a gender when I was human."

John raised an eyebrow. "Mmmhmm," he hummed non-committally.

"I wished it had been me that had managed to get inside Ellis Parnecki. I'd have loved to have known what you felt like inside her. All the things she knows about you. And your boys."

"One warning." His baritone voice was the stern tone of a man used to being obeyed. "You shut up and keep quiet or I exorcise you right here and now."

John Winchester didn't bluff.

She shut up.

He closed the U-haul again and walked back in the direction of Ellie's house.

* * *

Dean handed Ellis his clothes and she threw them in the dryer and hit the permanent press button. She let her gaze linger over his bare torso and chest for a moment before giving him a small smile.

He responded to her scrutiny with a deadpan glare. "Don't objectify me."

"Hard not to." She crossed her arms.

He tightened the towel around his waist and smiled goofily. "You said _hard_."

Ellis laughed. When an uncomfortable silence encroached upon them she asked, "How is Sam?"

"Well he puked up some yellow sulfur-smelling crap and then he crashed hard on your guest bed. Snoring, drool, the whole nine yards."

"Poor baby. I think that's the last of it." She turned serious, as Dean leaned back and rested his elbows on the washer next to her. "Do we know if there's more demons out there?"

Dean shrugged. "I wish we did. You know Ellis, you're probably a whole lot safer if you ditch this house."

"I'm not leaving my house."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean the Hell Patrol know where you and the cat live now."

Her mouth tightened. She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah they do. But they're going to be able to find me no matter where I go. I'm not transient like you guys. I find a spot and I settle, you know? Why don't you and Sam help me Devil's Trap the entire house. They might still get me going to the grocery store but at least they won't grab me taking a nap." She paused, thinking. "I don't think they're really after me. The demon in my head...she wanted John."

"Why are they all gunning for my Dad?"

She shrugged. "I think he's onto something that has made them very, very nervous."

"What?"

"He wouldn't tell me. Said I was safer if I didn't know."

Dean ducked his head almost shyly. "About you and Dad..." his voice trailed off. "You...what I was told...there something I should know about the two of you?"

She bit her lip, blinked back tears.

Dean read her expression and saw he'd hit a nerve. "Somethin' bad happen between you two?"

"No." Her nose was turning pink with increased blood flow as her emotions kicked up. "I just. I just have a feeling I'm not gonna see him for a long time."

Dean looked away to hide his own emotion. He paused, cleared his throat. "He keep contact with you?"

She wiped her sleeve across her nose. "Yeah. For years."

Dean nodded to himself. "He likes you. Dad doesn't keep contact with anybody. Well Bobby before he napalmed that one."

She laughed. "Yeah. John. Napalm. It's a thing."

"I'm sure he was in the house down the street." Dean tightened the towel as it slid down his hip a little. "I'm going to check it out before we leave. I have a feeling."

"Feeling about what?"

"He's lookin' out for us or something."

"He always is." She motioned to Dean. "Come on, sweetie, let's go down stairs. I need some tea. Or crack."

* * *

Ellis peeked through the dim light into the guest bedroom. Sam was on his stomach, face turned toward her. His broad back moved as he breathed in and out deeply. His mouth was slightly ajar. As Dean promised, there seemed to be drool.

His long legs were hanging off the edge of the bed and so was one arm. Taco had curled up against his hip bone, claws kneading in and out of the towel around Sam's waist.

She walked in and grabbed a comforter from the door of the bed, drew it gently over Sam, covering Taco as she went. The bulge beneath the blanket stopped its purring for a moment. She snorted and pushed the edge back to create a little opening for his head. The cat stuck his face out of his tent, looking vaguely like a furry nun and went back to purring.

She tucked the blanket around Sam's shoulders, kissed his cheek.

Sam stirred a little, boyish face innocent and sweet. She choked on the lump in her throat as the image of him on his knees in the mud flashed unbidden through her mind's eye. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She whispered. "I'm _so_ sorry."

 **Hey guys. Short chapter. I've had a really bad day, my beloved dog died. So I'm dedicating this chapter to Pippin. Please drop a review, they keep me going. XOXO.**


	20. Chapter 20

Dean and Sam sat down at the kitchen table and Ellis frowned. "Who said you two could put clothes back on?"

Sam barked a startled laugh.

She grinned wickedly.

"I think you're as bad as Dean."

"Yeah," she countered. "Except I'm all talk and no action."

Dean tilted his head. "That's not what I heard."

Ellis threw a stray oven mitt at him.

He ducked and it hit Sam.

Sam blinked, bent and picked it up. He winced with the movement.

"You okay?" Ellis asked, brow raised in maternal concern.

"Yeah." Sam replied, "just sore."

He threw the oven mitt at Dean. Dean was ready and he ducked again. It smacked into a cupboard and fell onto the floor. A moment later Taco pounced on it in a flurry of orange and white.

"The natural prey of house cats." Sam said. "Oven mitts."

"Cat needs meds." Dean said, watching the cat warily. "Thing is possessed, Ellis."

Taco batted at the mitt, feinted as if it had attacked back and leapt into the air before he bolted.

Ellis watched him run behind the stove, snagging his bandage on the edge and getting angry about it delaying him.

"Come on. You gotta admit something is not right about that cat." Dean continued.

"He is...a weirdo but he's my baby." Ellis's voice was fond.

"Rosemary's Baby." Dean replied ominously.

Sam huffed. "Dean, the cat saved our asses. Let's just be grateful, okay?"

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine. Let the freaky possessed furball run the house. Ellis let me take a look at the plumbing in the bath down here before we leave."

Sam started after him.

"No." Ellis pushed him back down. "You...rest."

Sam looked about to protest.

"Sam." Her tone brooked no room for argument. "Rest or I will beat you."

Sam huffed. "Which strangely hampers the healing process."

"Exactly."

They sat in silence for a minute as Sam abandoned the idea of helping Dean and finished his mug of tea. He looked up at her. "Dean thinks Dad was here."

"I do too," she replied.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Someone fixed Taco," she added.

"Why." Sudden frustration laced his tone. " _Why_ would he hide from us then?"

She shrugged. "Because he's John? I don't know. There has a to be a tactical advantage to it."

"Yeah, the tactical advantage of being a jerk."

"Sam..."

He looked at her, wounded beneath his anger. "I know you're a... _friend..._ of his but he's-"

"A thoughtless, tactless asshole. Yes, I know." Ellis responded. "But he's also brave and heroic and caring and he loves his boys."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. He has a great way of showing it. Always has."

She felt a little defensive of John suddenly-tried to cut Sam some slack. The boy had every right to be pissed off. "I know him in ways you boys don't."

"Yeah?" Sam's expression hardened into something she was not used to seeing, a sort of petulant anger. She could feel the power in him again. The sheer _will._ "Well I've had to live with him 24/7 for 18 years, Ellis, not just when he shows up to play white knight and try to get laid. So maybe I know him in ways _you_ don't."

Ellis's delicate lips parted a little. She nodded, a bit stung. "Touche Sam."

He looked at her expression and she saw the regret chase through his features, immediately remorseful for blowing up at her. "I'm sorry, Ellis." He dropped his head and contemplated his coffee mug. "I had no right to say that to you."

"No." She said sadly. "It's the truth."

He looked up, surprised.

"It is. It's fine." She felt decidedly emotional all of a sudden, then simultaneously pissed at herself for letting the truth of Sam's words hurt her and for showing it like a house wife with PMS. She wiped her tears and turned her back to Sam to try and get control. She only spoke again when she could keep the quaver out of her voice. "Do you want some more tea?"

Sam didn't answer at first. "No thank you," he replied. "I'm sorry." He said again.

"Sam, stuff it. It's fine."

"I...you've done nothing but help me and I'm being a jerk to you."

"He loves you, Sam. You don't have to accept anything else I say or think he's a great father or anything else, really. But you need to know he loves you...just hate him for the right reasons is all, okay?"

"I don't hate him." Sam said quietly.

Ellis studied Sam's face. "Yes you do...and you love him in equal measure."

Sam looked as if he were about to protest, but he never did.

* * *

Sam and Dean swept around the outside of the little house for sale.

Sam noticed the displaced trail of grass. The tousled indoor/outdoor rug on the front steps, all the things that had given Dean a red flag. He even noted some sulfur on the porch.

He circled around to find his brother. Dean was searching the broken glass from the back door. He reached in and opened the knob. The door swung open.

They walked in, both sets of eyes searching almost hungrily for a trace of their father.

Traces there were for certain-The Devil's Trap drawn with precision in the living room. The flood of water in the bathroom.

Sam stood and stared at the mess of discarded rope and the broken chair inside the trap and nodded. "I agree with you. This was Dad."

Sam paused. "I think...I think he took out the demons that were following us while you and Ellis were dealing with me."

Dean looked pained. "But I came over here in the thick of it and Dad wasn't here."

"Or he just didn't want to be found."

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and swallowed. He looked weary. "We were so close, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "At least we aren't following a completely cold trail. We know he's alive."

"Yeah." The green eyes were weighted.

Sam stood at his brother's shoulder. "Come on, man. He's gone. Let's go back to Ellis's. She was making something good when we left. Cupcakes or something."

"She's not gonna be alright if we leave her here."

"It's her choice, man. Besides if Dad took care of the problem..."

Dean patted Sam hard on the back and walked outside, his shoulders slumped a little. Feeling inexplicably small and abandoned.

Sam followed him out a minute later and saw Dean leaning his head into Baby, staring.

"What's up?"

A med kit was thrown on the front seat.

Dean reached in and pulled it out. "Someone popped the trunk and got out a med kit then threw it on the front seat."

Sam squinted, put his hands on his hips. "Dad?"

"Yeah." Dean said quietly. "Dad. Patched up the damn cat, I bet."

He threw the kit in the backseat and got in Baby.

Sam slid into the passenger seat and closed the door with her familiar creak.

The voice was resigned. "Let's get her back to Ellis's driveway before someone comes for an open house and finds the car here or something."

Dean started her up and Baby roared away.

* * *

John adjusted the focus on his battered binoculars and watched his boys through the kitchen window. Dean sat shoveling whatever ridiculously sweet baked good Ellie had given him into his mouth. The woman loved her sugar. So did Dean, so that worked out well at least.

His Sammy looked tired, sipping a mug of tea, but then he looked at Dean and responding to something his brother said, his face broke into a radiant smile, dimples carved deep into his cheeks. John brought the binoculars down and closed his eyes against tears, breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tight. He hadn't seen either of his boys for a while... but Sam, it had literally been years. And since he'd seen Sam smile like _that_...his heart couldn't even take the thought.

Every paternal impulse he had made him want to go to his boys. Hug them, hold them. Tell them he was alright and looking out for them. But every bit of tactical training he had, every hunter's instinct, told him to stay away. They were safer without him then they were with him, even though it hurt him to acknowledge the thought. So he'd do what he'd always done. He'd brush personal feelings aside and keep his boys safe.

Once he had control of himself, he brought the binoculars up again and saw Ellie, talking to Sam, her hand ruffling his hair like an errant puppy. She looked up, looked straight at John, almost like she saw him, even though that was impossible from this distance, with his hidden vantage point atop her neighbor's balcony.

He felt an emotional tug at the sight of her as well. Thought about those little hands on him. That little body against his. He was going to miss her. Pain in the ass, argumentative, stubborn, _wonderful_ Ellie.

He put the binoculars down and took and took a deep breath through his nose. _Alone._ He'd spent his whole life alone. Unable to let anyone or anything in except Mary. And look how that'd turned out.

He'd have loved a mother for his boys but he couldn't put a woman in constant danger being married to him. He couldn't settle in one place when he knew- _knew_ what was out there. Knew his boys weren't safe by virtue of being _his_ boys. He trained them as hard as he could. He moved them around, made them hard to track.

He ran a hand over his silver-fox stubble, almost a beard. Not quite. He swallowed hard, choked his emotion back down into place, tried to push away the thought that he didn't even have his boys anymore. He'd lost Sam years ago and now thanks to the Yellow-Eyed Demon, he couldn't even have his Dean.

Not for the first time he wondered if it would have been better to have put both the boys in foster care. He pushed the thought away. No. They were his. They couldn't have lost their mother _and_ their father and they wouldn't have been safe by virtue of them being Winchesters. They were cursed. Cursed to be his boys as Mary was cursed to be his wife. And Ellie cursed to be his friend.

John let the binoculars drop onto the strap around his neck and climbed down off his vantage point, his training making him stealthy for such a big man. He dodged across some lawns and headed for the truck. He opened the door, climbed inside, opened the glove compartment to stash the binoculars and Ellie's silver pendant fell out. He leaned over, scraped the gritty rubber floor mat with his fingers and picked it up.

 _John looked up from his seat at Ellis's worn kitchen table with a tired smile. He still felt like shit, even after several days' rest._

 _He took a sip of whiskey and traced her figure with his eyes. "What are you up to Ellie?"_

 _She was holding something in her hands. A small, wrapped box. "I got you a present."_

 _He snorted. "A present?"_

 _"Yes." She smiled at him playfully. "Don't worry, they are both practical."_

 _"Sweetheart, you and practical don't even live in the same zip code."_

 _"Shut up. If you weren't pathetic and unable to stand right now, I would punch you."_

 _John smirked._

 _She sat down opposite him and put the box down on the table with a mischievous grin. "Come on, open it."_

 _"I'm not much one for gifts, Ellie."_

 _"Well too bad because I am. And if you keep showing up at my door with your ass busted up from hunts then I get to do what I want to you when I play nurse."_

 _He raised an eyebrow and his dimples showed when he flashed her his teeth. "When you play nurse, huh?"_

 _She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and open it."_

 _She took his whiskey glass and swept it aside._

 _John's hands found the paper and started to unwrap it. It had been years since he'd unwrapped anything. Couldn't remember the last time he'd had a gift, actually._

 _The box held a mug. He pulled it out. It was white and had kittens chasing around the rim. He raised an eyebrow. "A kitten mug is practical?"_

 _She laughed. "Yes. You stay here enough you get your own mug."_

 _"Umm thanks?" He set it aside with a rueful head shake. "You get this for me to bust my balls?"_

 _"I saw kittens and immediately thought John Winchester."_

 _John snorted again. It was about as close to a laugh as it seemed she ever got him._

 _"But John, there's more. Look inside the mug."_

 _There was another box inside. "Oh god. What it this? A puppy bracelet?"_

 _He opened it to find a runic symboled pendant on a black leather thong. "What's it mean?" He furrowed his brow._

 _"Protection," she said.  
_

 _He held it up to look at it a moment longer and she snatched it out of his hands and put it over his head. It settled around his neck. "There. You need this. Obviously."_

 _He shook his head. "Okay, Ellie."_

 _The kitten mug had stayed in the cupboard until he visited when Ellis made it a point of fact to amuse herself by serving everything to him in it._

 _The pendant got taken off and thrown into the glove compartment. They were both pointless. But they had come from Ellie. And to John Winchester, she was far from pointless._

 **To be Concluded...**

 **Hang in there guys, one more chapter. I'm sorry I didn't have the mental energy to respond to all of the lovely reviews last time. I will this time. :) Thanks IdreamofIvan, Marble Wolf, Fanpire, D. Darkwolf, SpnKs15, BadWolf40, Jenmm31, Colbie15, Wasted Jamie, Savannah Smiles, Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod, for taking the time to drop me a review.** _  
_


	21. Chapter 21

John slid the U-haul open and wrinkled his nose. The several hours he'd been gone hadn't done any good for the decomposing human body. The demon he'd left in there blinked her eyes in the sudden light. He'd almost have felt sorry for her if she wasn't a demon.

"I think we need one of those pine tree car deodorizers in here," she said.

"Oh thought this might smell nice and homey." He replied, taking a breath through his mouth. "That is truly foul."

She walked to the edge of the trap. "Why are you here? Thought I'd seen the last of you."

"Came back to tie up loose ends." He replied. "Had to make sure there were only a few of you. Had to make sure my boys were safe. When you get back down there, you tell Yellow-Eyes that I know who he is and that John Winchester is coming for him."

She hesitated. "When I get back there?"

He nodded.

"You promised!" She yelled. "You _promised!"_

"I lied. I don't make pacts with demons."

"You _bastard!_ " She screamed. "You fucking _lying_ bastard! He's not even in Hell anyway! He's among you! He escaped the Devil's Gate. He walks with you!"

John nodded calmly. Took note of her talk of a Devil's Gate. Figured he'd investigate it further. "Then I guess I'll get to tell him first."

John began the Latin incantation amidst her screams and pleas until she exited the meat suit in a cloud of black smoke. He rushed over to the woman lying on the floor and checked for a pulse. She was alive. He sighed and pulled her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, hurried her to the truck and dumped her inside.

John did a quick triage, checking her vitals and assessing damage, making sure she was stable before he hurried back to the U-haul and wiped his prints off of it. He left the markings on the floor and figured he'd let the cops draw the conclusion that a bunch of Satan worshipers had killed the poor man in the trailer.

Satisfied he'd covered his tracks in the cab and the trailer, John used the old rag he was wiping prints with to reach up and close the back. It slid shut with a loud grating squeal.

John slid into the driver's seat with the unconscious woman. "Hang in there, honey." He said, giving her hair a quick stroke. He jammed his key into the ignition and started his truck up.

The black GMC roared away.

Later, John would leave an anonymous tip to the police.

* * *

 **. _Several Days Later._**

"Okay Ellis, Dean and I have warded and trapped and fixed everything we could think of," Sam said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He gave her a shy smile. His color was back to normal, the pallor of exhaustion having left him. He'd been eating well. More than well, actually, as if his body was trying to make up for all the calories it'd lost through his haze of exhaustion and pain.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Ellis said.

Sam's mouth quirked up into a smile again. He shifted underneath her gaze, she could hear the slight rustle of the fabric of his tan canvas jacket.

Ellis took his arm, gave it a little squeeze. "You take care of yourself."

"I will." Sam said easily.

Ellis's hold tightened. " _Really._ You boys take care of each other. And make sure you call me if you find your Dad. And I'll give you a heads up on the off chance he stops here. I know that's not going to happen. But I can hope."

Sam nodded, leaned down and gave her a long embrace. She held him tightly. Thought of him on his knees in the mud and hugged him tighter.

"Hey." Sam said. "We'll be okay."

Ellis nodded, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his clean shaven cheek. "Goodbye, Sam."

"Bye," he said cheerfully, stepping outside. He crossed Dean's path as he headed in. "I finished putting some warding on your car as well." He told her. "And you were like 10,000 miles overdue for an oil change. So I did that. I should have put some warding on the car to protect it from you."

She nodded. "Probably."

"Seriously. Take care of the car. It's a piece of crap anyway. You won't need demons to kill you if the engine drops on you on the highway."

She smiled at the lecture. "Okay, Dean." She tilted her head flirtatiously.

He kept up his authoritative mode for another minute, seeming much like John just then. "Be careful. Sam and I aren't going to be around if you run into trouble...Ellis, I'm being serious." He said to her barely suppressed smirk.

"Yes sir," she replied.

He took a little umbrage at her tone. "Don't _yes sir_ me."

"Yes sir. Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

He finally responded to the tease with his usual banter, biting his lip a little flirtatiously. "You that obedient in bed?"

"You'll never know," she teased.

She saw the thought cross Dean's mind: _yeah, but Dad does._ His eyes went a little distant, the wind out of his sails. "Yeah."

"Dean," she stepped over to him and took both of his hands in hers. They were twice her size." She gave him a squeeze. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

There was a weighted pause. "Do you still see Sam..." he asked in a hushed whisper, his voice trailed off as if he couldn't bear to finish the thought.

She knew what he meant. She hesitated, wasn't sure if she should reveal anything at all. "I haven't seen that vision again at all."

He looked relieved, like a palpable weight had been lifted from him.

"Good." His smile was radiant. Ellis thought of how fucking handsome he was. So beautiful. She thought of him broken and weary and defeated. Tried to push the image away by putting her arms around him and burying his nose in her chest. He even smelled good. Like leather and car and fresh air. His arm went around her shoulders.

"You take care." She had a death grip on him.

"Hey." He said gently. "Sweetheart, we'll find Dad. He'll be okay."

She didn't answer for a minute. "Be a good boy. And keep in touch."

"Okay." He assured. He kissed the soft blonde hair on the top of her head. "Thanks for taking care of Sammy." His voice rumbled under her ear along with the steady rhythm of his heart.

"Any time, baby. I love you."

She pulled away.

Dean didn't answer but he smiled approvingly. "I'm awesome. How could you not?"

She shook her head but her words disagreed. "You are."

"You are too," he said with a broad smile that lit up the room. It made her heart ache. So much radiance in him hidden under the darkness.

"Okay," he said, jerking his thumb toward the car. "I'm leavin'.'"

He opened the door, Sam was on the porch with Taco in his arms, scratching the cat's ear with a gentleness that belied his strength.

Taco had his eyes half-closed lazily, buzzing his contentment.

Sam handed him to Ellis and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You take care."

"I will."

He looked at her like he wanted to say something else.

"What?" She prompted.

Whatever it was, he lost the courage to vocalize it. She saw the fond look he gave her. "What sweetheart?"

He huffed. "No one's ever called me _sweetheart_ before. I kinda like it."

She furrowed her brow. "But why not? You are one?"

He shrugged, his loose jacket hanging off his tall frame. "Guess growing up with all guys, you just don't hear that much, you know...but it's nice." He flashed her his radiant smile and gave a careless wave. "Take care of Taco."

He turned and walked over to Baby, ducked inside. For the second time that week, Ellis watched those sweet faces pull out of her driveway and leave her life.

* * *

 ** _.Epilogue...and Last._**

Ellis stepped outside to fetch the mail. It had been months since the boys left. She'd heard no trace of John. She'd spoken to Dean once on the phone. They did their usual flirtatious verbal dance and life had gone back to normal for her.

Except where it hadn't.

Except when she jumped at sounds in the night, like Taco knocking books off the nightstand. Or the creaking whine of the old steam pipes. Or the ache in her heart when she thought of John Winchester. And the ache in her body when she thought of him next to her.

She'd called several times with the same result as the boys-everything went straight to voicemail. Sometimes she left him messages, rambling voicemails that meant nothing. Sometimes she left him snippy thoughts about how he shouldn't drop off the face of the earth and abandon his boys. Sometimes she told him she loved him. And most of the time, she just hung up.

She knew John would listen to her voice when he got a chance- could picture his handsome face in the darkness of his truck, features illuminated by the screen of his flip phone. Sometimes amused, sometimes annoyed, sometimes, just sometimes, she hoped he missed her half as much as she missed him.

Two days ago, a strange man followed her too closely on her walk home from her second job answering phones at a veterinarian's office. She called John, left a rambling voicemail saying she was frightened and that she saw demons lurking on every corner. When John didn't answer, she rang Dean's cell and talked to a very patient Sam for a half hour. He told her he understood, that it happened to everyone touched by the supernatural. That he used to have nightmares. That she'd be fine.

Later when Sam was correct and nothing happened, she'd called John's phone and left a message saying never mind, it was her imagination. She was a neurotic freak, but he already knew that.

Taco marched along at her heels like a loyal dog as she walked the length of the driveway. She'd reconsidered her policy of letting him out and oddly, once she did, he had much less interest in escaping. He stayed inside with her most days and took his forays when she did, trotting around the neighborhood with her on her walks.

Ellis reached in the dented blue mailbox and pulled out her usual assortment of fliers and bills. "Oh look Taco," she said, glancing at the political junk mail she'd received. "If we elect Harvey he's going to eat our children and raise property taxes. That would be unfortunate."

Taco scented the mail box with his chin.

Ellis glanced in to make sure she didn't miss anything and sure enough as she closed the tin lid, she heard a clang. She looked and there hanging from the top latch was a pendant. She pulled it off, held it in her hand. It only took her a moment to recognize both it and the protection symbol hand-etched into the front.

Her heart gave a small cry of pain and she wrapped her fingers around it and closed her eyes. _John._

She opened them again and looked around her.

She saw nothing, craned her head hoping, praying. Tears escaped her eyes a moment as she looked around and then slipped the leather thong around her neck. The pendant settled between her breasts, cool against the skin there. She could feel John on it in that strange way she could feel what was happening from visions. He'd been touching this recently. Frequently enough to leave the subtle energy imprint of John Winchester.

She looked around again, saw nothing. Nothing but quiet suburban orderliness. Ellis headed back down the driveway, the rest of the mail forgotten in the mailbox. The political flier on the ground where she'd dropped it. She heard a noise, the growl of an engine and snapped her head up. Way down the street, almost too far for her to see clearly, a black GMC Sierra truck pulled out of somebody's driveway and headed up the road. As it turned, she caught a glimpse of dark hair and salt and pepper beard and the next second it was gone from view.

 **The end.**

 **Thanks for following me, you guys! Especially those of you who have followed me and regularly reviewed. You are awesome. If you happen upon this story even months or years after I've posted, always feel free to drop me a review. It's always nice to hear feedback on one of my babies, even a long finished one.**

 **Up next, I have a tale of Sam at Stanford.**

 **I've also been contemplating another story with Ellis if people are interested, but this time I wanted to whump Dean. If you have any cool ideas for Dean whump, shoot me a message. I have other stories, feel free to check them out. And if you want to get updates when I've posted something new, don't forget to subscribe to celinenaville.**

 **Also is an account that contains co-written stories with my pal, Mariamo. It's pure hurt/comfort crack. Feel free to take a look. :)**


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